


Just Breathe

by Awriterwrites, dimpled_halo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Collars, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Dom Louis, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Edgeplay, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Frottage, Kinda, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Lots of it, Louis in leather pants, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Harry, Subspace, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wax Play, coming on command, oh where to begin lets see, scene not going as expected and laughing about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimpled_halo/pseuds/dimpled_halo
Summary: Louis pops his head into the kitchen, “You alright?”Harry smiles shaking his head, “Just my clumsy arse at it again,” he says laughing.“I oughta put you over my knee and give you a good spanking,” Louis mutters, chuckling.Harry freezes.  His pulse races so hard he can feel the blood rushing fast and hot throughout his body, like a livewire, zinging through him in a delirious rush.  His mouth goes dry, and his eyes are wide.  And when Louis turns around to look at him after being silent for so long, it’s like Louis justknows.  He understands.  Harry loves him so fucking much.****OR the one where Harry and Louis are on a journey through life together — one that includes discovering dark, hidden parts of themselves that only the other can find.





	1. Year One: The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> We want to thank our lovely betas Kera, Gina and our awesome Brit picker KK. You're the best, and we couldn't have done all this without you! 
> 
> I would also personally like to thank my co-author, Lisa, who came and made this fic with me into what it became and I couldn't have been more happy with the way it turned out. To think that it was only supposed to be a small one shot and now it's this, I couldn't have done it without you and your amazing ideas and feedback so thank you! Here's to hopefully working together again someday in the near future.
> 
> Co-author here. I would like to thank MY co-author, who I am thrilled trusted me enough with her story and let me play with her on this one. It was so fun to work together and to learn more about writing and each other through this process. The best part was having normal conversations and then slipping in, "So, I think for the next scene Harry should ask to be tied up and then maybe Louis can like, bite his nipples til he comes untouched?" Haha! Good times. I can't wait til we work again. Love you xxoo
> 
> Here is the playlist for this fic. [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mrsjackylopez/playlist/3Vpww3x5BQCwVcUcooOTFn) [Apple Music Playlist](https://itunes.apple.com/us/playlist/just-breathe/idpl.486b3f05e35d402c97c4cf579cd8b8c0)
> 
> I listened to ["Oxygen" by Fred V & Grafix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGpe5hIaKPc) a lot while writing a lot of Harry's POV. It was also the inspiration for the fic title. :)
> 
>  

 

 

Harry is late.  

The cool fall breeze hits his cheeks as he scurries across campus to get to his philosophy class on time.  He’s hot and flushed as he moves as quick as he can without looking like a complete lunatic in the unseasonably warm October weather.  His professor is very unforgiving and is known to shut the door at the beginning of class, treating anyone who's late as absent even if it’s just by a minute.  

Harry opts for a shortcut, making his way through the grassy field where there seems to be a game of footie going on in the distance, but he can't even be bothered to see if he recognizes any faces among the group of people.  He hears someone yelling in the distance, and before he can grasp what's going on, something hits him hard right in the head.  The force is so strong it knocks Harry off his feet, making him grunt in pain.

“Fuck!”  

There's no way he's going to be making it to class now, he thinks, as he lands squarely on his arse from the impact of the object hitting the side of his head.  

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!  Are you alright?” a soft raspy voice he doesn't recognize cuts through the hazy buzz that’s swirling in his head , but he can't see who it is because he’s got his eyes closed.

Harry’s eyes flutter open and, as he tries to gain his bearings, he rubs his head around the sore spot where he was hit.  He has no doubt it’ll bloom into a nice big purple bump.

“Can you hear me?”  the voice startles Harry from his thoughts.  Right, someone had asked him something.  

Harry’s eyes follow the voice and... _blue_.  He's met with the brightest, most clear blue eyes he's ever seen.

“Wow,” Harry’s own eyes go wide realizing he’d said that out loud,  “I — I mean, yea I'm fine.”

Bright Eyes, laughs and it's the prettiest sound Harry has ever heard.  The boy stretches his arm out to help Harry up, “Come on let's get you up, Curly.”

Harry smiles at the nickname, feeling dazed not only by the hit to the head, but also from the intensity of the stranger’s gaze.  As soon as Harry stands up, he feels himself getting dizzy and needing to cling onto Bright Eyes.

“Whoa there, are you okay?”

Harry finally gains his balance back and nods, “Yea sorry, head rush.”  He picks his messenger bag up from the ground, and he can feel the heat from the beautiful boy’s stare as he watches Harry’s every move.  “Well, thanks for your help,” he says, about to turn around to head back to his flat.  There’s no use even trying to go to class now, he’ll just have to borrow notes off one of his classmates.  And besides, he feels unsettled by the fall and the boy and the crystalline blue of his eyes.

“ _Wait_ ,” Bright Eyes grabs Harry’s forearm to keep him from leaving, a hint of desperation in his voice.  “Let me take you out for a cuppa.  It’s the least I could do.”

Harry feels his face heating up, cheeks pinking from having this beautiful boy’s undivided attention.  The offer seems genuine, and Harry would be a fool to not take advantage of it — to get to know the gorgeous guy standing in front of him.

“A cuppa sounds lovely,” he replies, and Bright Eyes smiles so wide, his eyes crinkle beautifully at the corners.  Harry finds himself wanting to always be the reason for that wonderful smile.

“I’m Harry,” he introduces himself as he self-consciously runs his fingers through his hair.

The boy’s eyes trail the movement of Harry’s arm, eyes pausing over Harry’s fingers in his hair, before he settles back to his eyes, “Louis,” he says, airy and light, barely a whisper.

Harry can’t help but repeat the name in his mind over and over again like a mantra, never wanting to forget the beautiful boy named Louis with pretty blue eyes, shining like ice in the midday sun.

 

~~~~

 

Fate couldn’t have delivered a better gift if she tried.  

Louis watches, mouth agape, as the stark white of the ball flies against the bright blue fall sky, the arc of it like it’s following an invisible rainbow.  Leading down, down, down to the inevitable pot of gold at the end.  

It was _him_.

Louis isn’t a stalker.  Really.  He isn’t.  But...he has, maybe once or a hundred times, noticed the pretty curly-haired guy his ball was heading straight for.  

In Louis’ mind, the tall, lanky boy with long waves that look like hot cocoa swirling in a copper pot, is totally and completely off limits.  Akin to royalty.  Or something.  So beyond his social stratosphere that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, even deign to say hello to him, let alone have a conversation with him.  But here he is, watching his football soar through the sky (it was a miraculous pass — if not a bit off target) and land squarely at the side of the boy’s head.

He drops like a sack of flour.

Louis runs at full speed toward his unwitting victim, practically skidding to a stop at his feet and nearly toppling over on him.  “Oh my god!  I’m so sorry!  Are you alright?”

Slowly, as if controlled by tiny, fluttering fairies made of green stardust, the boy opens his eyes and stares directly at him.  Louis’ breath catches in his throat because, _Christ_ , this kid is truly beautiful.  His evergreen eyes stare up at him blearily, and his mouth opens and closes twice before he stammers something.  Louis can’t hear him because he is just so transfixed by the roses blooming on this boy’s ivory cheeks, and the way his bottom lip puffs out farther than his top one, and the white teeth that are just a little too big...and he is so much more than Louis could have ever imagined after staring at him from afar for all these weeks.  

Louis can hardly believe his own raging confidence when he suggests taking the boy for a cup of tea.  He is even more shocked and amazed when the boy, _Harry_ , accepts.  They make their way to the coffee shoppe just off campus, while Harry continues to rub the side of his head and Louis makes a complete arse out of himself apologizing and yammering on about anything that pops into his brain.

“What’ll you have?” Louis glances up at Harry and notices how long his lashes are.  Everything about him seems larger than life, over the top somehow, but it works for him.  Suits him.  Louis’ eyes linger on Harry’s mouth.  His lips are carnation pink and full.  Like, comically full.  But again, they are perfect for him — for his face.  Louis wonders what it would feel like to sink his teeth into those lips.  Or maybe to lick over the seam and taste a whisper of what the other boy’s mouth tastes like...  

“I’ll have a chai tea, I think,” Harry says, slow and deep, like some kind of mesmerizing galaxy of swirling silver and black, dotted with midnight blue and indigo.  Beautiful.  

Louis orders his tea and turns Harry’s offer down to pay for his own — “It’s the least I can do, giving you a shiner like that,” Louis insists — and they sit in the corner at a tiny table with two mismatched chairs and a small unlit candle between them.

Louis feels his body thrumming with nervous excitement.  He can’t help the way his knee is bouncing under the table, and he’s way ahead of himself when he thinks about what it would be like to hold the other boy’s hand.  “So.  Harry.  What do you do besides get clobbered unexpectedly by errant footballs?”

Harry laughs, his eyes crinkling up and his wide mouth spreading into a stunning smile .  “Mostly I study.  And run around like crazy because for some god forsaken reason I’m always late.”  He takes a sip of his just delivered tea and closes his eyes in what looks like pure tranquility to Louis.  He groans at the mouthful he’s just taken, and it sounds nearly pornographic.  Louis squirms in his seat.

“Good?”

“Very.  Thank you.”  

Harry’s voice is so deep.  So fucking deep.  Louis wants to ask him to read him some poetry or soliloquies or names from a phone book, for christ sake, it's that alluring.  He doesn’t though, instead opting to ask him something more practical.  “What are you studying?”

Louis sips his own tea, happy that they got the milk to tea ratio just right.  Harry circles a finger around the rim of his cup and looks up at Louis.  Louis thinks that maybe he could die right now.  Being the focus of Harry’s gaze is like burning up in the brightest light possible.  It’s like being on fire.  And Louis thinks maybe he could get used to it.

“Well.  Um.  I’m studying to be a teacher.  Secondary?  I’m in my last year.  Getting ready to start my  internship.  It’s um...intense?”  Harry’s voice stays low and steady, and the way he talks is like watching paint dry on a wall.  It could be dreadfully boring, Louis thinks, but not to him.  It is probably the most fascinating thing Louis has ever experienced.  

“That must be very exciting.”  Louis cringes at the way his voice comes out all high and eager.  If Harry talks slow and methodically, Louis speaks at the complete opposite end of the spectrum.  He talks like he’s on speed — fast and breathless.  He knows he’s always in a rush, always trying to get to what’s next.  But he can’t help it sometimes.  He’s an excitable guy.  He loves life.  

But he wishes, sometimes — like now — that he had someone to share it with.  Someone to help him slow down and just...be.

Louis tells Harry about how he’s finishing up a joint honors this year in graphic design and business, how he’s been at it for five years now.  He tells Harry about his family and his hopes and dreams.  He tells him about how he is going for his Master’s degree right away, and how all he’s ever wanted is to be successful in his field.  Make a difference.  An impact.  

For  a brief while, it feels like time is moving all around them but not here, in this little cafe on a crowded street in a busy part of a university town.  It feels like time is standing still.  Louis feels like he’s never felt this connected — this in synch —  with someone else before.  It feels like slotting a key into a lock or sliding a hand into a soft leather glove.  It’s a perfect fit and right, so right.  

Louis feels like he couldn’t have dreamt up a better afternoon.  Ever.  
  


_~~~~_

 

Being with Louis, Harry feels like a moth and Louis is the flame that only burns brighter the more time they spend together.  Every day with him is an adventure, one Harry is so happy to be a part of.  Harry can’t get enough of Louis, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.  They go from a tea date to constant texting to a movie date to a dinner date and from there it just spirals out of control.  

Being inseparable includes not being able to keep their hands off each other, relishing in every touch that never fails to bring shivers down Harry’s spine.  It starts with Louis putting his hand on Harry’s arm while they talk animatedly about the latest episode of Shameless.  It’s so subtle, but to Harry it feels like sparks igniting, making him crave more.  And then, one night, while studying over a big bowl of popcorn, Louis leans in and kisses Harry for the first time.  It tastes like orange soda and it is so gentle Harry thinks he could cry.  And then, suddenly, it’s not nearly enough.  Before he knows it, the books are pushed aside and he’s in Louis’ lap and their mouths are learning each other in a way their words and actions never can, and it’s perfect.  Perfect.

Every kiss makes Harry never want to kiss anyone else, because kissing Louis is an addiction he never wants to get rid of.  When they glance at each other from across a room, Harry can hardly take it, with the way Louis looks at him, practically fucking him with his eyes.  Harry feels himself having to look away from his burning gaze, not wanting to be responsible for what he’d do to Louis in public.  What he’d let Louis do to him.  

They’ve done everything...but that...and Harry has been aching with want for it.  They’d been taking things slow, but Harry can feel the sexual tension between them like a rubber band that’s about to snap, and he’s more than ready for it.  It’s unspoken, but the desire for each other is palpable.  It’s like a living, breathing organism between them. Harry knows it’s only a matter of time.

Last night, when Louis walked Harry home after going to a film festival in town, Harry practically begged Louis to fuck him, he wants him so badly.  Louis reprimanded Harry, standing there at his doorstep, acting nearly scandalized by Harry’s supplication.  Harry felt embarrassment and shame flood his body.  But the surprising thing was the he... _liked it._ Which is strange.  Harry has never felt like this before, desperate for someone but also needing, _wanting_ , their praise.  It’s perplexing.  And it’s making Harry crazy.  

Harry was able to convince Louis to an invigorating hand job.  

 

 ~~~~

 

Harry wakes up naked in bed. He lays there for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being awake, and then his eyes fly open in alarm. Why is he naked? He never sleeps naked. He scrunches his face, wracking his brain and running through his memories of last night. Slowly it comes back to him. He went to a bar with Louis and some friends. Shots. There were lots of shots taken. There might have been karaoke at some point too. Harry groans, embarrassed, with his hands on his face as the memories from last night flash through his mind.

Harry had gotten completely sloshed, and Louis had helped him get home.  Harry might have been (ok, definitely was) pretty explicit to Louis about the things he wanted to do to him, stripping naked as soon as they walked into his flat, throwing himself at Louis.  But Louis, wonderful gentleman that he is, got him a glass of water and tucked him into bed instead, with a kiss on the forehead before leaving him to rest.  

Thinking over what he can remember of last night, Harry is mortified, and wishes the ground would swallow him whole.  Luckily, he doesn’t feel too hungover, just thirsty as hell.  He looks over to see there’s a filled glass of water on his night stand that Louis must have refilled for him before he went home.  Harry groans and shakes his head, feeling like he doesn’t deserve him.

Louis is just.  He’s everything to Harry.  Harry never thought he’d find someone he fit so well with, who got him, and always looks at him with so much love.  Well, they haven’t said they loved each other yet, but Harry can just feel it.  He knows he’d do anything for Louis, and with the way Louis looks at him, Harry is pretty confident that the feeling is mutual.  

Louis is also _hot_.  The hottest person he’s ever dated if he’s honest.  With those blue eyes, that soft feathery fringe that is just the perfect shade of brown.  His smile is like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, not to mention the crinkles that appear at the corners of his eyes, giving him a rugged handsome appearance.  

Louis has the perfect physique too.  He’s athletic, toned with compact muscles everywhere, but he’s also got a little tummy that Harry wants to just nuzzle and kiss and lick all over.  Maybe even bite on it a little bit.  And don’t get Harry started on Louis’ arse, because that arse is so plump it makes Harry’s mouth water.  He’s been dying to get his mouth on that arse since the very moment he saw Louis.

The weeks and weeks of kissing, hand holding and heavy petting have been gnawing at Harry from the inside out.  And how Louis manages to maintain such a sense of control is beyond Harry.  Thinking about Louis, and all of his... _pleasant_...attributes has Harry running his own hands over his sweat sticky, and probably desperately in need of shower, body.  He’s dying here because no one has ever kept him at arm's length like this before.  And Harry is in a drought.  A sex drought.  

Well.  Not really, but he needs to get fucked.  And soon.  Or do the fucking.  Either way, Harry’s up for it.  He’s biting his lip and running his hands over his nipples, pulling at the them and rolling them between his fingers while he thinks about how much he just _wants_ Louis.  His hips start moving in these little circles, half hard cock rubbing against the duvet.  

 _God_.  Louis makes him crazy.  The way he smells, the way he kisses.  He’s forever giving Harry just enough but, infuriatingly so, not the one thing he needs.  The few times he’s held Louis’ cock in his hand Harry has practically come in his pants, Louis is so perfect.  Thick and soft, Harry knows it would feel so good buried deep inside of him, splitting him open like...

Harry groans and slips his hand further down, under the blanket.  He teases himself at the head, running light fingertips all around the sensitive ridge and then he wraps a hand around himself.  And, _fuck_ if that doesn’t feel like dying and going to heaven.  He’s gone and gotten himself hard, just thinking about Louis, Louis, Louis.  He’s just so much, everything Harry wants and needs.  It’s overwhelming, having Louis all the time, but not really _having_ him.  Yet.  

Harry closes his eyes, just picturing himself all over Louis.  Running his mouth over  his nipples, nuzzling his armpits (armpits usually gross Harry out, but he would _die_ to get his mouth on Louis’ pits), working his way down Lous’ torso...And it’s like Louis is there, laying on his back _helpless_ , letting Harry do anything he wants.  Harry turns on his stomach, feeling the warmth of the sunlight creeping in through his window.  He imagines Louis beneath him, as they grind their cocks together, slowly at first, but picking up the pace as he goes.

“God, _Louis_ ,” Harry moans as he continues to grind his hips down, getting that delicious friction he’s been craving.  He imagines this is what it would feel like to sink inside of Louis’ body.  Or having Louis thrust deep inside of him, fisting Harry’s cock between his tummy and the bed.  And it’s so good, but he needs more, so Harry rubs his hips deeper into the mattress, really working his hips now, grinding and writhing in a way he’d probably be embarrassed to do if real life Louis were here.  But.  It’s like he can almost feel Louis’ warm, soft skin rubbing against his, the hot sun cascading over his bare skin like another body, hot and electrifying, and it makes Harry whine with need.

 

~~~~

 

The warm near midday sun is what wakes Louis first.  Then, it’s a muffled sound that travels from down the hall into his ear and straight to his cock.

Because that’s _Harry_.  And it sounds like Harry right before he gets off.  Louis should know.  He’s heard it a few times now — the result of frantic hand jobs and one or two stellar blowies — and it features in just about all of his wank sessions these days.  Louis sits up slowly and listens carefully, just to be sure.

“God, Louis.”  Harry’s voice is deep and rough, sexy in the way no one has a right to sound after a night like the one they had last night.

Louis looks around and sees the scattered remnants of Harry’s clothing in the living room and the console table laying sideways on the ground.  Harry had bumped into it and laughed like a bloody hyena, proceeding to throw himself at Louis, flinging hot arms around his neck and babbling about wanting to fuck him and then make him breakfast.  And Christ, Louis wanted him to do that and so much more.  It’s just.  Harry was really, really wasted and Louis doubted he’d be able to even get it up to complete all the filthy promises he was spouting.  And.  Well, Louis didn’t want their first time to be like that.  With one of them drunk and vulnerable and the other — him, in this case — in a position of potentially taking advantage of the other.

No.  Harry was so, so special to Louis and Louis wanted their first time to be candlelight and symphonies and many, many very coherent orgasms.  And he wanted to make sure that Harry understood just how important he was to him.  That he was falling — could very well already be — in love with him.  

Snapping back to the present, Louis hears the bed down the hall creaking and the unmistakable sound of panting.  Christ.  What is he doing down there?  And.   _Shit_.  He was moaning Louis’ name again.  

Louis had been worried to leave Harry alone last night, he was so drunk.  So, he had opted to sleep on his lumpy sofa.  He’d slept later than he intended, but it was Saturday and they had made plans to go to the cinema this afternoon so it was all good.  Except for the increasingly more pornographic and loud noises coming from the end of the hall.  

Louis stands, slowly, and navigates his way carefully down the hall.  His cheeks flame red when he hears Harry cry out “Fuck me, Louis!”  It’s enough to make him pause but then...it’s like he just can’t help himself.  He has to see what Harry is doing that has him so riled up.  It’s this morbid curiosity that he knows, just knows, is going to fuck him up royally.

The door is cracked a few inches just so Louis could hear if Harry got sick during the night.  Louis feels like he’s punched in the stomach, the site he lands on is so much more than he thought he’d be witnessing.  Harry is spread out on the bed, sheets rumpled and blankets cast to the floor, like a starfish, humping the mattress rhythmically.  He is all long legs and arms and plump arse bobbing up and down, and every third thrust or so Louis can see the way Harry’s balls are tight and close to his body, and how his heavy, hard cock is red and straining against the bed below and...oh.  

Louis’ hand is on his cock before he even realizes it.

And it should be creepy.  It should be downright stalker-ish, peeping tom that he is.  But it’s not.  It’s so fucking hot and Louis feels like he can burn up right there on the frayed carpet in the dimly lit hall of Harry’s student flat.  Harry’s so _desperate_ — gagging for it — arse rising and falling, hips pumping, strong muscles in his legs, arms, and back straining with every single poetic movement.

And then...with a shout, it’s over.  Harry is spilling all over his fist, body bent so that his face is smashed in the pillows and bum is high in the air.  He moans and cries out, Louis’ name spilling out of his mouth like a fucking prayer.  Louis stuffs his fist in his mouth, swallowing his own moan as his cock leaps inside his pants against his palm.  He knows he should leave.  Knows he should at least have the decency to backtrack to the living room at least, but he can’t.  He’s frozen in place because Harry’s body is golden in the soft sunlight streaming through the window and there is a light sheen of almost glittery sweat covering his strong back and legs and God.  Louis just _wants_.

He whines around his fingers and then...then, in slow motion, Harry twists on the bed and looks directly into his eyes.  Louis’ hand starts moving in earnest then, something about being caught watching Harry, being caught with his hand in his pants and his boyfriend clearly thinking about him while he gets himself off it’s just...

“ _Oh_.”  Harry whispers, surprised, but recovering quickly.  “Louis.  How — “

Louis takes a step inside the room, stopping himself before he gets too close.  He’s not sure if Harry wants him there, wants him to stay.  “Was on the couch.”  Fuck.  He can’t believe how raspy — how gone — his voice sounds.

“You saw?”  Harry slides to the end of the bed, his wet semi still standing alert between the V of his legs.  He puts his feet on the floor and watches Louis, unabashed, interested.

“Yeah.  I...I heard you.  Um.  I should...I can go?”  He’s very aware that his hand is still in his pants.  And he is still very, very hard.  

Harry runs a hand over his face and blinks slowly.  He looks at Louis’ crotch and licks his lips.  “Come here?”

Louis goes.  

“Can I?”  Harry gestures to Louis’ trousers.  

“Fuck.  Yeah.  I mean.  If you want?”  Louis’ voice cracks, he can literally feel the embarrassment ooze from the syllables spilling from his mouth.

Harry eases his sticky, warm hands into the back of Louis’ jeans.  He slides them down under Louis’ bum, bringing his cock out from his pants gingerly.  Louis groans at the feeling of Harry’s hand on him.  It’s not like — it’s not like Harry hasn’t touched him like this before.  It’s just that, well, this knowledge that Harry gets himself off thinking about Louis is making Louis feel kind of lopsided...sort of like the entire world is sliding into focus.  Because Louis wants Harry like that.  Always.  And now.  It’s evident that Harry wants Louis that way too.  

Louis can’t think much longer about that because Harry is licking around the head of his cock, pointing the tip of his tongue and sliding it just under the ridge, in these tiny little kitten licks and its, Christ, it’s so good.  

“Harry…”  he whines.

“Come on my face.”  Harry rasps.

And, what?  “ _What_?”  Louis squeaks.  

Harry fits his big lips around the side of Louis’ cock and the hot, wet slide of it is divine.  Louis shudders and can feel his orgasm building.  Just being here, in this hot room with the smell of Harry’s come and last night’s alcohol and Harry’s obscene mouth and him saying ‘come on my face’?  Jesus.

“Come on my face.”  Harry says slowly.  “Come on.  Want you to.”

Louis swallows hard and sees sleepy determination in the other boy’s face.  Harry’s eyes are vibrant despite the dark smudges under them from lack of sleep.  He seems dead serious.  And, well.  Louis is really, really turned on and, yeah.  He can do that.  He can come on Harry’s face.

His cock is wet from Harry’s plush mouth so it feels amazing when Louis closes his fist around his hard shaft.  Harry leans forward and opens his mouth, eyes boring into Louis’.  Louis starts wanking, hard and fast, just the way he likes it, and he watches Harry’s tongue come out, ready to catch whatever he gives him.  With very little warning, Louis comes.  It takes him by surprise, but not Harry.  Harry catches most of it on his tongue, and the stripes that land on his cheeks, eyelids and across the bridge of his nose remind Louis of some kind of pornographic experimental artwork.  

Harry is just so beautiful, and all marked up with Louis’ come.  It’s like Louis has staked a claim.  Made Harry his and, fuck all if that doesn’t make Louis feel like he could explode with sheer happiness.  His heart beats wildly and he bites his tongue.  The words are on his tongue but he can’t let himself say them.  Not yet.  So, instead he focuses on putting them in Harry’s mouth, licking desperately inside the warm, wet  heat, the taste of his come and sleep mixing with the hot flames of desire.  They tumble to the bed, eyes closing slowly, sweat cooling and mouths working together in sleepy circles and gentle presses of lips and teeth.  Eventually they break apart, still close, cuddling.  Harry makes a little contented noise and Louis feels like he could stay here forever.  Wrapped up with Harry, like cats in the sunshine, ready for whatever comes next.  

 

~~~~

 

After having a  particularly stressful day at school, Harry arrives to his flat, and Louis is already there waiting for him.  He’s sitting on the couch, his feet bouncing nervously off the floor.  His hair is swept to the side in a feathery fringe, and his cheeks are a rosy pink.  He’s rubbing his hands against his thighs, and they’re so small and dainty.  Harry wants those hands all over him.  After the episode of having Louis come all over his face, Harry can’t stop thinking about Louis’ hands and Louis’ cock and doing everything with Louis.   _Everything_.  

“Why, hello there,” Harry greets, exhaustion dripping from his voice as he leaves his coat and bag on the hook by the door, “This is a nice surprise.”  He’s so happy to see Louis after the day he’s had.  It’s like the perfect antidote for the mounds of homework he has and the papers to mark from his internship.

Louis smiles, squinty eyes with crinkles at the corners, so beautiful.  He never ceases to take Harry’s breath away.  “Hi love,” he greets, standing up and quickly closing the gap between them to kiss him, short and sweet.

Harry takes Louis’ face into his hands and deepens the kiss, never wanting to come up for air, their lips slide against each other in perfect synchrony.  When they finally break apart, Louis’ pupils are dilated, no trace of blue left in them, and it’s like all bets are off the table. The weeks of touching and kissing and holding on to the smallest shred of restraint are just...gone.  

Harry kisses him again, this time sloppy and desperate, a mesh of tongues and spit.  Louis moans, only encouraging Harry to keep going.  Harry can’t believe that this is finally happening, and Harry is _so_ over taking things slow, and now...now there is nothing keeping them from being together.  Fully.  It makes Harry’s heart race, his breath coming hard and fast as Louis tangles his hands in his hair.  His cock is getting harder by the second, and from the feel of it, so is Louis’.

Harry breaks away, panting, trying to catch his breath, “Are we...I mean?  Do you want to?”

Louis licks his lips, and kisses down Harry’s neck, biting and licking softly.  He comes back up and looks into Harry’s eyes, “Well...I’d like to.  Do you?  Want to?”

Harry lunges back into Louis’ arms, kissing him wetly, hot and fierce, “Fuck yes!”

That settled, Louis whines in Harry’s ear, “Want you, Harry.   _God_.  So bad.”  Then, he pulls Harry’s shirt off of his body without much finesse.  Harry couldn’t care less if he ripped it in two.  He’s desperate, and he feels like he could burn up he’s so hot right now.  

“Too many clothes,” he mutters between wet, loud, smacking kisses.  Louis’ tongue is back in his mouth, and Harry gives back as much as Louis is giving.  

Before he knows it, they’re both naked on Harry’s bed.  Harry is on his back with his legs parted, welcoming Louis to nestle himself between them.  And it’s like everything suddenly decelerates, their movements become slow and hazy now, everything in slow motion.  It begins when Louis starts working his way down Harry’s body, licking and kissing the path down his neck, and he settles onto Harry’s nipples.  Nibbling, and sucking, licking over the reddening nubs.  

Harry’s teeth bite onto his bottom lip, needing something to ground him, and keep him focused. It feels so fucking good, Louis sucking on his nipples like that.  Harry can’t help but keen and buck his hips up against Louis’ thigh that’s pressed between his own legs.  His vision whites for a moment with how delicious it feels.  He must have shoved Louis a tad too rough because as his cock collides with Louis’ leg, Louis bites down — hard — on his nipple, making him cry out in a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure.  The sensation feels like an explosion going off in his brain making his vision go blurry, and everything around him goes fuzzy.

“Ah!  Fuck!   _Louis_.”  Harry slurs, arching his back, pushing his nipple back into Louis’ mouth, Louis tonguing over it gently, too gently.  

“I’m so sorry love.  Slipped…”

“Fuck.  Do it...  Do it again.”  Harry moans, catching himself by surprise with how much he wants — _needs_ — more.  

Louis doesn’t waste any time, his teeth clamping down again, making Harry see stars.  He feels the moan rip from his throat, and he is helpless to stop it.  It feels so good.  And it _hurts_ .  It’s an out of body experience, one that hurts so fucking good.  Louis’ hand finds its way to his other nipple, and he rolls the bud between his fingers, pulling and pinching in time to his lips, teeth, and tongue.  It’s sublime, and the only way Harry could begin to describe it is by groaning, “ _fuckfuckfuck”_ over and over again.

After several long moments — Harry can’t be sure how long, really, he’s so far gone — Louis asks about lube and a condom.  Harry feels so fuzzy he can’t speak, his body is buzzing, practically elevating off the bed.  He motions to the floor, and somehow Louis manages to find the box under the bed with Harry’s supplies.  

“Baby.  How do you wanna…?”  Louis’ voice is soft and kind, but Harry needs something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Fuck me, _please_ , Louis, fuck me.”  In the back of his mind he knows he should be embarrassed about begging for it but he really can’t bother right now, he needs so much.  Needs _Louis_ so much.  

Louis kneels between his legs and pulls one of Harry’s legs up over his shoulder and angles his body so he can reach where Harry needs him most.  It only takes minutes to open Harry up with how relaxed and languid his body is; anticipation thrumming deep inside him for what’s coming.

“I’m ready Louis, _please_.”  Harry’s voice is hoarse, and he doesn’t care.  

Louis fumbles for the condom and lube, and suddenly Harry can feel Louis nudging into his entrance, and he lets out the breath he’d been holding because finally, _finally._ Louis is gentle with him, taking his time pushing inside of him inch by inch to the point where Harry just can’t take it anymore.  He decides to take matters into his own hands, wrapping his legs around Louis’ waist, making him bottom out much quicker, and it’s like the wind’s been knocked out of him.  But in a very good way.

They stay still for just a moment, before Harry prompts Louis to move, and he does.  He starts and the first few thrusts are slow and steady, but...the desperate noises Harry makes urge Louis to increase his pace, building to a merciless rhythm.  

Harry loves it.  It feels like nothing else he’s ever felt before.  It’s hard and relentless, and it’s reaching an itch inside of him that he didn’t even know was there before now.  Somehow, Louis is giving him exactly what he needs in this moment.  And it renders Harry speechless.  

The sound of skin slapping against skin makes Harry grunt and moan in pure bliss.  Each movement is one less ounce of control Harry has, and he basks in the feeling.  Never has he ever had to surrender so much to someone, and with Louis there’s no hesitation, because he’d give him the entire world if he only asked.  He’s somehow learned to trust this man so much in such a short amount of time.  It’s all of the little things coming together in this one moment.  It’s the times Louis has held him when he’s fallen asleep while they watched a film.  It’s the times when Harry’s had a bad day at school and Louis’ been there to sort it out with him, make him a cup of tea.  It’s the conversations about the future and the conversations about which brand of flour is best for baking cookies.  It’s all of the moments when Louis’ just been there for Harry.  A phone call or arm’s length away.  

Harry doesn’t question it.  He just lets go.

Harry’s hands reach out to hold on to something, _anything_ , but there’s nothing within reach.  And before he can even ask, Louis is already there, taking his wrists--one in each hand-- and holding them against the mattress above his head.  Harry’s eyes go wide, and he makes a strangled noise, the weight of Louis on top of him with the force of his hands against his wrists brings a type of pleasure Harry has never experienced before in his life.  Harry’s wrists burn where Louis is holding them as he continues to pound into him, and all Harry can do is yelp incoherently.   At this point everything around him feels cloudy, and he’s past the point where he feels any pain.  Harry’s body tingles with little bouts of pleasure that come in great succession, one after the other, leaving him no opportunity to catch up.

It’s unrelenting.

“Look at you.  My beautiful boy,” Louis pants during one particular hard thrust, and Harry keens at Louis’ praise, feeling something inside of him snap, as if Louis’ words — combined with his desperate, unabating fucking — unhinge that last part of himself that was holding back.

And that’s really all it takes.  It’s as if Louis said the magic words to make Harry come.  Harder than he’s ever come before.  Louis’ own orgasm follows seconds after his own.

“Fuck.”  Harry breathes out.  His mind is an endless swirl of emotions, and his body is shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.  Never has Harry come  — let alone with so much force — from someone’s words.  It was just something about the way Louis’ soft, feathery voice complimenting him, praising him — it did something to Harry he can’t quite describe.  Harry’s body has never responded that way to another person before.  

Before he can say anything else, he feels Louis wrapping his arms around him, again without Harry having to voice what he needs at that moment.  And it’s as if his body is already attuned with Louis’ as it instantly relaxes into his embrace.  He can feel Louis’ breath against his ear.

“You did so well, love.  My good boy,” Louis continues to praise, rubbing his nose against Harry’s sweaty curls.  And Harry’s cock twitches in tired interest.  If he wasn’t completely and utterly exhausted, he’d be half hard by now.  Harry smiles, a feeling of complete serenity settling over him, nestling himself against Louis and making himself more comfortable.  

 

~~~~

 

Harry  doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until Louis nudges him awake.  He’s a bit confused at first as he wipes the sleepiness from his eyes, but then, when Louis’ form comes to focus in front of him, he notices that he has a glass of water and a banana in his hands.

“Here baby, drink up,” he orders in a gentle but firm tone, not leaving any room for argument.  Harry sits up on the bed, the soreness of his bum a welcome ache, and he takes the glass and drinks all the water, not realizing how thirsty he’d been until the liquid touches his mouth.

Louis disappears out of sight, and Harry isn’t sure where he went, until he hears the running water coming from the bathroom.  When he finishes eating his banana, Harry manages to stand on his wobbly feet without incident and follows Louis into the bathroom.

“What’s all this?”

Louis is perched over the tub, pouring what looks like some type of liquid soap that is making the water bubble beneath him--Harry has no idea where that even came from.  Louis looks up at him and smiles, “I ran you a bath.”

Harry is speechless.

Without another word, Louis gently walks Harry towards the tub, nudging him to get in.  With Louis’ help he does, the hot water making his muscles instantly relax.  Harry hums in appreciation leaning his head against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes.  He thinks he could easily fall asleep like this.

A few minutes later he feels the touch of gentle fingers lathering shampoo against his scalp.

“Mmm.”  

He doesn’t open his eyes, not wanting to get any of the suds in his eyes.  Harry feels cherished and adored with the way Louis is taking care of him without having to ask.  It’s like they’ve got this connection, like some invisible tether that links them together, Louis knowing exactly what Harry needs, almost before Harry even knows himself.

Louis finishes washing Harry up with such tender care and so much love, Harry can feel it radiating off of him.  So he continues to sit in comfortable silence, letting Louis do as he pleases.

When they’re all cleaned up Louis wraps Harry in a warm towel, rubbing him up and down making sure to dry every single drop of water from his body.  

“Let’s go to bed, my sweet boy.”

Harry’s cheeks pink at the term of endearment, and he follows Louis back to his bed.  They don’t bother putting any clothes on, instead they bury themselves in the blankets, cuddling against each other, using their body heat to keep each other warm.  

Harry feels his eyes getting heavy, but he feels the need express how great this experience has been with Louis, “That was…”

“Yea,” Louis breathes, tightening his arms around Harry’s waist.

Harry thinks he hears the faint words of _I love you_ as he’s nodding off to sleep.  If he doesn’t hear them, he certainly feels them.  

  


~~~~

 

Blinking his eyes open as soft light shrouds them like a cocoon, Louis feels the stretch in his marrow when he lengthens his spine and twists his hips slightly.  He feels warm.  And happy.  So, so happy.

Thinking back over the events of last night, Louis can’t believe how lucky he is.  Harry is everything he’s ever wanted and he’s lying right here, next to him.  It’s sort of like dream walking.  

Coming inside of Harry was...otherworldly.  Louis has never felt anything like it.  It was like eating something exotic, forbidden, for the first time.  It felt dangerous.  But also, it felt comfortable.  Like coming home.  And for some reason, inexplicably, Louis felt this overpowering need to take care of Harry afterward.  He wanted to clean him up and run him that bath.  He wanted to make sure he was hydrated and fed.  All he really wanted to do was wrap him up in his arms and keep him safe forever.

It was different than the way Louis had ever felt before.

He had been in relationships before, but never like this.  There was never anyone that made him feel the things that Harry makes him feel.  He’d never felt this protective, this need to want to chase the moon and the stars for someone.  In the past, Louis’ exes wanted more than what he was willing to give, but with Harry, he’d give his all, and more.  It’s a scary feeling, but one that Louis welcomes with open arms.  Because somehow, with Harry, he knows there’s no need to worry, because this thing between them, it’s stronger than anything he’s ever known, and it gives him a sense of comfort.

This is definitely new territory for Louis.  And he likes it.

He wants to take care of Harry.  Wants everything with him.  Rationally, he knows Harry is a big boy (pun fully intended), but he also knows that there is a vulnerability to him, something Louis thinks maybe he’s the only one who has ever been privileged enough to see.  

It’s spellbinding, is what it is.  Because Louis has been traveling through life with one singular plan.  Finish school.  Get a job.  Be successful.  Maybe find someone to share it with, but that’s always been secondary to his success.  Until he met Harry.

Harry snuffles next to him, and Louis feels the smile spreading across his face before he can stop it, a fresh wave of protectiveness washing over him.  He snuggles down under the covers further, and lets the softness of Harry’s back against his chest calm him, tug him back into that place of sleepiness — not quite alert, caught between sleep and wakefulness.

For a moment, he lets the memories from last night wash over him.  He remembers sinking inside of Harry and feeling the incredible heat of him surround him in every way.  He can hear Harry’s moans in his head right now, and it makes his tummy flip in a wild tumult of butterflies, ending in a delicious drag deep in his groin.  He remembers wanting to make it so good for his boy, so, so good.  He knows he shook with the need to stave off his own release because he wanted Harry to go first.  Wanted Harry to just let go.  He wanted to be the one to make that happen.  Wanted to see everything, feel everything.  With Harry.

When he held Harry’s wrists down, almost instinctively, just to get him to still and let go, let Louis take care of him, he remembers the look in Harry’s eyes.  It was an intoxicating mixture of trust and breathless surrender of control.  His eyes were brimming with emotion and Louis swears he could have asked Harry to do anything right then and he’d do it without question.  

Not that he _would_.  

But the complete pliancy was remarkable.  It made Louis want to try it again.  See how far he could push it.  It was... _intriguing_ .  Harry was intriguing.  It made Louis’ heart leap inside his chest at the thought of it. Doing more with Harry.  Pushing him.  Pulling him.  He wanted to take care of Harry, but he also wanted to explore with him. Explore _what_ , he wasn’t entirely sure of, but having sex with Harry was like leaping into some wild, exotic unknown.  And it was thrilling.  

But more than that Louis thought that maybe, probably, he was falling in love with the long limbed, peculiar, dynamic boy sleeping beside him.

Right now, Louis has a growing problem.  And it’s definitely not the fact that he’s just realized that he’d give his heart to Harry right here, right now, if he asked for it.  No, it’s the thought of Harry letting Louis control him like that.  Like he did last night.  And it’s made him hard.  Well, harder than he was when he first woke up.  

He experimentally grinds up against Harry’s bum, biting his lip to suppress the strangled groan that makes its way up his throat.  His arm that’s not completely flattened by the bigger boy’s body is draped over Harry, and he can just reach one of his nipples.  He flushes at the memory of Harry begging him to bite him over and over again last night.   _Christ_ .  That was so hot, he thinks, feeling his cock twitch between Harry’s cheeks.  He works his fingers over the raised flesh softly at first, feeling the tickly sensation of Harry’s skin under his hand, and then he works himself up to rolling the nipple a bit rougher, harsher.  He’s sure that Harry’s probably sore there so he’s not _too_ rough, just this side of gentle.  

Harry moans and arches a bit, his arse sliding up against Louis’ fattened cock.  The action pushes Louis in deeper, and Louis thinks he could probably pump his hips hard and fast a few times and come all over the boy’s arse and back.  But he won’t.  He wants to take care of Harry first.

And _shit_.  Where is this coming from?

“I’m awake, you know.”  Harry’s morning voice is even deeper than his regular daytime voice and it makes  Louis feel slightly crazed, unhinged.  

“Hm.  You ok today love?”  Louis purrs into Harry’s unruly hair, right where he thinks his ear should be, his hips still rolling forward.  

Harry starts undulating backward in these maddening circles, making Louis want to lose his ever loving mind.  Louis pulls a bit harsher at the nipple he’s playing with and Harry stills, letting Louis control the pace, and he lets out the prettiest moan Louis has ever heard.  It sounds like an ocean wave crashing to shore, sharp and coarse, filled with longing and urgency.

“Feels amazing, Louis.   _God_.”  Harry slowly rocks back on to Louis’ cock, matching Louis’ movements.  When Louis’ cockhead snags Harry’s hole for a brief second they both cry out at the sensation.   “Felt so good.  Took such good care of me,” Harry moans, positively indecent for such an early hour.  

Louis’ pulse quickens at that, thinking back to last night, thinking about how he took care of Harry.  His chest puffs up a little and he thinks, I did, didn’t I?  He feels proud and the desire to do it all over again rushes through him, spurring him on.  Giving one final tug at Harry’s other nipple, Louis bites down on Harry’s shoulder, making the boy squirm.  “ _Fuck_ , Louis!”  Harry cries out, his entire body stilling at the pain of Louis’ sharp teeth.

Interesting, Louis thinks. “Too much?” he questions, already knowing the answer.  He thinks.

“N — no,” Harry stutters, body still pliant and loose in Louis’ arms.

Harry rolls over, pulling Louis’ face to his.  They both have morning breath and are sleep puffy and can barely open their eyes but Louis thinks Harry is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, so it all just fades away.  They kiss and it’s demanding and full of lust and promise.  Louis sighs into Harry’s mouth and lets Harry control the kiss for a moment, until he’s had enough.  He rolls on top of Harry and starts fucking into his mouth with his tongue.  Harry groans and grips Louis’ arse cheeks so that their cocks rub together, driving a fevered moan from Louis.  

Louis tears himself away from Harry and his beautiful, beautiful mouth and pants, “Wanna suck you off, ok love?”  He’s already moving down Harry’s body, feeling Harry widen his legs and plant his feet firmly on the mattress beneath them.  

“Fuck, yes.   _God_.”  Harry’s sex voice is obnoxiously hot, Louis thinks.  And fuck if it isn’t getting him more and more riled up.

Harry’s cock is long and thick, laying against his belly, precome smeared and shiny at the head.  Louis wants him so badly right now, he can barely think straight.  His entire being, but mostly his mouth, wants Harry writhing and panting underneath him yesterday.  

The first flick of his tongue makes Harry choke out a throaty wail.  After that Harry’s just a babbling mess of a boy, crying out and swearing, kicking his legs every once in awhile from the sheer pleasure of it all.  Louis finds himself doubling his efforts, taking Harry down further than he ever has before, rolling his tongue and sucking over the head with fevered enthusiasm.  His face is wet and messy and Harry’s cock is shiny from spit and come and it is positively gorgeous.  

“Louis,” Harry whines and Louis groans and pushes himself even further, gagging a bit at Harry’s length but wanting to make it so, so good for Harry.  He wants Harry to have everything.  Everything and more.  He swallows around Harry’s thick cock, eyes tearing up and his airway nearly completely blocked.  Harry shouts and traps Louis’ head between his legs and then he’s coming.  Hot, thick streams of come shoot down Louis’ throat, and he thinks he could just melt, it feels so good to take care of Harry like this.  

To _give_ Harry this.  

Louis pulls off and inhales deeply, straining to catch his breath.  He wipes his mouth and face with the back of his hand and hazards a look at Harry.  

He is an absolute vision.  His hair is around his flushed sweaty face like a chocolate halo and his body is dewy with sweat.  There is a pretty pink color to his skin and his cock is still mostly hard and covered in Louis’ spit and Harry’s own come.  It’s gorgeous.  

I did that, Louis thinks, I _gave_ him that.  

Harry looks completely wrecked, and it makes Louis’ spine curl in delight.  He is so, so fucking happy right now he could cry.  

He’s surprised then when Harry is suddenly on top of him, straddling him and pushing him down on to his back. Before he can protest or question it, Harry is attacking his mouth, licking the taste of his own release right from Louis’ mouth.  It should be gross and a bit disconcerting — Harry seems to love it so much — but it’s not.  It’s so fucking hot, and Louis wants Harry to keep kissing him like this forever.  Thinks he could come just from being kissed like this.  

Harry’s between his legs before his brain catches up to what’s happening and then, almost manically, Harry is sliding off the bed and on to the floor.  He lands hard on his knees and barely winces as he paws at Louis’ thighs.  Louis takes that as a request to follow, so he does.

“Baby?  What?”  Harry is staring up at Louis with wild eyes and he looks frantic.  His mouth is bitten and red and his body is still beautifully flushed from his neck down to his semi-hard dick.  

“Please, Louis.  I want — “  Harry is pulling Louis toward him and then it dawns on Louis.  Harry wants to blow him.  On his knees.  Harry is on his knees and he can’t even tell Louis what he wants he’s so flustered.  It almost knocks the wind out of Louis — this boy is so perfect.  

“Yeah.  Ok.  Let me…”  Louis follows Harry by sliding to the end of the bed.  He swings one leg to one side of Harry and scoots forward so that Harry’s hands can rest comfortably on Louis’ thighs.  Louis leans back so that he can support his weight on his hands and he looks through his lashes at Harry.  Harry looks like he literally wants to eat him alive, and it gives him chills, makes him feel like he can’t possibly be worthy of Harry’s adoration.

He can’t think on it too long because within moments he feels Harry’s warm, wet mouth closing over his dick and he can’t even think right now, let alone process the unbelieveable weight of Harry feeling for him what he feels for Harry.   Consumed.  Enamored.  Completely, incredibly gone for each other.

“Nnngh — God — fucking.   _Fuck_.”  Louis is cursing and Harry’s tongue has only just started working.  They’ve done this before, given each other a blowie here or there, but it’s never felt quite like this before.  Never this charged — this all consuming.  To Louis, it feels like something has changed between them.  Something monumental.  And he wants it all the time.  Feels like he could live and breathe just on this feeling alone.

Harry’s mouth is tight and perfect around his cock head and Louis feels his legs shaking from the exertion of not thrusting up into the perfect wet heat of him.  He opens his eyes and finds Harry staring at him, blinking up at him with gorgeous doe eyes, tongue working his slit, lips stretched around the crown of his cock, but not moving.   _At all._  It’s exasperating.  

Then, slowly, as if in a trance, Harry moves his arms from Louis’ legs and bends them behind his torso, moving them until his hands clasp at his backside and he blinks again.  Harry’s eyes are glazed over, pupils blown wide and filled with a sort of urgency that’s focused on Louis.  Only Louis.

Oh my fucking _God_ , Louis thinks.  He wants me to... _fuck his mouth_.

Louis feels his orgasm building fast and hard.  From his boy and this...request.

“Yeah?”  Louis rasps.

Harry nods his head without breaking suction, his eyes unblinking.

Louis’ mind clears a little, and he studies Harry’s face carefully.  He wants to make Harry happy; so, so much.  And he also really wants to fuck his mouth.  He’s never really done that to someone before — not explicitly, anyway — more kind of accidentally when he got carried away.  And this feels entirely different.  Much, much different.  

He gently caresses Harry’s cheek, dragging his thumb along the arch of his sculpted brow.  Harry blinks and closes his eyes slowly, and when he opens them they are blown wide and he’s gone completely, serenely, pliant.  

Like last night.  

Something courses through Louis.  Something that feels a lot like responsibility and love and need, all masked by power, but really, deep down, Louis knows it’s just Harry asking for something he can’t verbalize.  At least he thinks that’s what it is.  But he can’t be entirely sure, either.  It doesn’t really matter, though, because Louis is ready to give Harry everything.  Anything he wants.

Louis reaches out with his hand and tangles his fingers in Harry’s curls.  Harry hums around his dick, and Louis has to concentrate really hard on not coming right then and there.  He slowly moves his other hand to the other side of Harry’s head and pulls on the loose curls above his ear.  Harry keens then and, because Louis has an inkling that Harry wants more, he pulls a bit more forcefully.  Harry fucks his hips forward against the side of the bed and Louis just loses it.  

Harry is getting off on Louis using him to get off.  He’s getting off on Louis pulling his hair and getting ready to fuck his face.  

Louis thinks he might propose.  He’s really, really thinking that a proposal is imminent.

The first thrust is divine.  The head of his cock nudges the back of Harry’s throat and Harry fucking whines around it and loosens the muscles in his neck and throat to give Louis more control.  Louis uses the muscles in his backside and his strong thighs to push himself in and out, in and out, over and over again while Harry just takes it.  Harry whines and moans around Louis’ throbbing, thrusting dick, his eyes streaming tears and his face red and blotchy.   Without warning, Louis feels Harry flex slightly and he can tell that Harry’s coming for the second time — this time against the side of the bed.  With his mouth stuffed full of Louis’ cock.  

Louis comes.

He doesn’t know how long he comes for, but when his vision clears, Harry is standing and climbing over him to lay behind him on the bed.  His big strong hands pull Louis backward until Louis is cuddled up next to him, their arms and legs tangled together like pretzels.  Louis is breathing hard and his mind is spinning.  He needs a moment to catch his breath, and then he wants to make Harry breakfast.  Pull him into the shower and clean him up a bit.  

God.  He loves him so much.  

Louis looks into Harry’s eyes, emerald green forests that have become like a second home to him, and he whispers, “Let’s move in together.”

 

  


 


	2. Year Two: Need

The next few weeks are a complete whirlwind.  The words had fallen out of Louis’ mouth before he could even think about it, and Harry doesn’t even pause when he agrees to it.  And so it is decided.  They are moving in together.  Louis is giddy as they start packing up his things and figure out what to keep and what to donate.  Harry’s flat is the preferred location because it is a bit more spacious — although still insanely small, as it is considered student housing — and closer to school.  

Louis finds himself falling deeper and deeper in love with Harry as the days go by.  He just hasn’t been able to put it all into words — all that he feels for him.  He knows that Harry is it.  Everything he has always wanted.  It’s easy with him.  Even when it’s hard, it’s effortless.  They worry about money, and they both work and go to school, and sometimes they are just so tired all they can do at the end of the day is fall in bed together.  

They tease each other about their quirks and oddities, and they laugh.  A lot.  Harry makes fun of Louis for eating dry cereal out of the box like a child, and Louis teases Harry about his collection of fuzzy slipper socks.  They find ways to thrill and comfort each other almost daily.  Louis finds that, after they make love that first time, he can’t get enough.  Harry is the best kind of drug.  And now that they live together he gets to have him whenever he wants.

Living together is better than Louis could have ever imagined.  

Today is a cold, dreary day, winter holding on to its last breath, refusing to surrender to spring, but it doesn’t stop Louis and Harry from getting outside on a rare day off together.  Harry is wearing an obnoxious white faux fur coat, and he looks like a movie starlet to Louis.  Like a vixen from a golden age, with his wild hair curling around his face and his lips red and raw from the wind.  His eyes are bright as they flit from shop to shop;  they are using a little bit of unexpected extra money to buy a few things to spruce up the flat.  

_ “ _ Vanilla or Jasmine?”  Harry’s deep voice rolls over Louis like a soft Caribbean wave.  He thinks he can melt from it, lose himself in the warmth and gentleness of it.

Louis looks up from the collection of picture frames he is perusing to see Harry holding a large candle in each hand, framing his face with wax in glass and a goofy smile that is spreading quickly.  And it’s just.  He’s just so  _ beautiful _ .  And he is so much he takes Louis’ breath away sometimes.  And right then, in the middle of some little oddball kitschy shop he thinks  _ I wanna marry that boy _ .  

And that’s it.  That’s all it takes.

Louis walks around the circular display table they are book-ending and takes both candles from Harry’s hands.  Harry looks like he’s about to protest but something in the way Louis’ face looks must stop him because he closes his mouth and shifts from one foot to the other, eyes locked on Louis’.  Louis places the candles on the table and takes both of Harry’s gloved hands in his own.  Harry’s red mittens are fleecey and warm, and Louis gives them a little squeeze.  

Then he drops to his knees.  

Harry gasps, and Louis just opens his mouth and...says it all.  Everything he’s been holding back all these weeks.

“Harry Styles.  I adore you.  I love you with all of my heart and soul — you know I do, I tell you all the time!  And there is absolutely no one else in the world I want to shop for candles with for the rest of my fucking life.”  

Harry’s eyes are already streaming tears as he huffs out a quick, bright laugh.  Louis feels his heart hammering in his chest like it’s planning on breaking free.  He takes a deep breath, the close air of the shop filling his lungs like water sinking a ship.  “I can’t imagine my life without you.  I can’t remember it before you.  I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up with you every morning.  I just...I love you Harry.  So much.”

Harry whispers, “I love you too,” his voice breaking and his hands trembling in Louis’ grip.  

“And I’d be honored if you would be my husband.”  Louis pauses and stands up, grabbing Harry’s face in his hands, wiping away the tears that line his cheeks.  “Will you marry me, Harry?”

Harry’s bottom lip trembles as he crashes their faces together, mouths mushing in a messy slide of chapped lips and tears and the blistex Louis smeared all over moments ago.  

And it’s so much, Harry’s arms sliding around him, pulling him close, their tears mixing on each other’s faces and their bodies quickly overheating from the heat streaming through the tiny shoppe.  Louis whispers how much he loves Harry over and over again, while they hug and rock back and forth.  Time is suspended until Louis hears a little cough behind them.

“Um.  On the house.”  A small grandmotherly woman is standing there with both of the candles Harry had been gripping just moments before.  She has a big smile on her face, and she looks like she wants to hug both of them.  “Congratulations!”

Louis disentangles himself from Harry’s arms and takes the candles, laughing boisterously.  “Thank  you!”

“I have to say.  That’s a first for me.  No one’s ever proposed in me shoppe before.”  The tiny silver haired woman is grinning so wide the wrinkles lining her face deepen and her eyes glitter like cobalt diamonds beneath the folds of her eyes.  

“Sorry?  Just got…”  Louis looks up at Harry, who is still staring at him in complete shock and adoration.  “Just got carried away,” he whispers, grabbing hold of Harry’s hand, feeling the need to pull him close.  Wants him close.  Always.

“Don’t apologize!  It’s just so lovely to see two people so in love.  Reminds me of me and my Ollie.”  She gestures toward a picture hanging over the back wall, behind the cash register.  Louis assumes that was her husband as he looks back to her kind face.  “Married 54 years, me and Ollie.  I hope you have as much fun as we did.”  

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand and smiles.  “We sure will try.”

The shopkeeper nods toward the door.  “Now, go on!  Get out of here.  Before I have to throw you out. That hug looked like it was getting a little too frisky for this old woman to handle!”

Louis watches Harry’s cheeks flush and he glances at the woman who is beaming at them.  “Thank you.”  He says, and he means it.  She’s a lovely lady.

The woman shoos them out, and Harry drags Louis down the street toward their flat.  Louis has to practically jog to keep up.  

“What’s the rush Hazza?”  He pants, trying to juggle the two candles and Harry’s incessant tugging at his arm at the same time.

Harry stops at a street light and looks deep into Louis’ eyes.  “Wanna get you home so I can give you a proper thank you.”  Harry’s voice is deep and full of dark promise.  

Louis swallows thickly and tries to ignore the way his trousers tighten a little at the notion of what a proper thank you means.  Whatever it is, he’s  _ more _ than willing to find out.

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

Stressed doesn’t even begin to describe how Harry has been feeling lately.  He’s been on edge all week, having stacks of papers to mark, a lesson plan he needs to have done by the end of the week, and to top it off it feels like he hasn’t seen his fiance in days.  

Louis has had to deal with pressures of his own, between needing to finish his thesis for graduate school and juggling a full time job.  They see each other briefly in the mornings when they’re rushing to get ready for their days.  Half the time Harry doesn’t even know when Louis gets home, oftentimes falling asleep before he can even feel him get under the covers next to him.  He’ll sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with warm arms wrapped around him, the only assurance that Louis got home safely.

Finally, Harry’s just had it.  He feels this immense need to just let go of himself completely, but he’s not quite sure how to even begin to bring it up to Louis.  The last time it had happened on accident, when Louis bit him hard, making him lose complete control.  Since then, Harry hasn’t been able to form into words what it is that he wants.

It’s date night, and they haven’t made any plans to go out — opting instead for a night in to just breathe and catch up on what has been going on in each other’s lives. Louis texted him a short while ago saying he’s getting off early, but will still be home later than Harry;  he just has to survive until Louis gets home.  He feels untethered like never before, off in a way he can’t even begin to describe  

This need that Harry’s feeling is beyond the realm of how he normally feels.  It’s more than just needing sex or needing time with Louis.  It feels deeper; like an itch he can’t reach to scratch, and with each day that passes by, the feeling only intensifies.  So much so, that it’s driving Harry mad.  He’s getting near desperate.

When he arrives home, Harry rushes to the shower, making sure to wash away the day’s stress from his body as thoroughly as possible.  He takes his time, knowing he has a while before Louis is due to be home, letting the shower head’s steady stream of water envelop him.  After he’s done he grabs his bathrobe, warm and soft, wrapping it around his body.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he turns on some music before walking over to the closet where he grabs their box of toys.  Harry looks through their butt plugs, and he’s so.  He just has this need to be filled up so badly that he opts for their biggest plug--a purple one with sparkles that has five different vibration settings.  He takes a deep breath, before putting the box away and grabs their strawberry lube from the night stand.  

Harry stands there, staring at the plug and lube on the bed, as if they’ve got the answers he’s looking for.  He shakes his head at himself and drops the robe before climbing on the bed, lying flat on his back with his legs open and feet planted against the mattress.  He decides to start with what he knows, what feels almost like second nature to him.  He wraps his hand around his dick and slowly begins to stroke himself to hardness.  It doesn’t take much because he’s been so on edge, that he could just think about Louis’ eyelashes and get hard in a split second.  

Harry closes his eyes, to help him focus, help him try to feel what it is he’s searching for.  He’s never felt this way, this intense feeling, this kind of un-nameable burning deep inside of him.  He starts trailing his other hand against his chest, letting his nails lightly graze his torso, and it makes his body shiver like static electricity rippling under his skin.

Harry takes his bottom lip between his teeth and continues to jerk himself off, while his other hand continues to explore his body.  He can feel his face beginning to heat up as he continues on his slow and steady rhythm.  His fingers reach one of his nipples, pinching it gently at first, but it’s not enough, so he does it again, harder this time, automatically letting out a moan.  The pain isn’t much, but it feels so good.

_ Shit. _

Suddenly, Harry just brings both of his hands to his nipples taking his index fingers and thumbs on each one of the buds.  He takes another deep breath and closes his eyes before he pinches them both,  _ hard _ .  

And it’s…

_ God.   _

There’s a wave of pain and pleasure radiating throughout his body, from his nipples all the way down to his toes, and it’s amazing.  Harry remembers when Louis bit into his nipple hard by accident that one time and how earth shattering it felt, but they hadn’t really done anything like that, anything like  _ this _ , since then.  He pinches himself again, harder this time, making his body twitch on the bed, his back arching against the mattress.

“Fuck!”  

He can just picture Louis on top of him biting him everywhere.  His nipples, his love handles right where his laurel tattoos are that Louis already loves licking and kissing so much.  Harry just wants Louis to mark him up everywhere, leaving bruises all over his body.  He wants it to hurt.  Hurt so much that it feels good.  He wants to press his fingers against those bruises to feel the ache of them, as a reminder of who he belongs to.  He just, really  _ needs _ that to happen.

_ Louis. _

Harry reaches for the lube nearby, generously slicking up two of his fingers.  He tightens his hand around the base of his cock because he doesn’t want to come yet, he wants to wait for Louis to help him do that.  He opens himself up, working his way up to four fingers because he did choose the biggest plug, after all.  When he feels that he’s ready, he takes the plug and slowly starts to slide it inside of him.  

_ Calm down. _

He takes a couple of deep breaths as it enters him inch, by inch, and  _ fuck _ .  His hole clenches eagerly around the purple plug, and Harry needs to pause for a moment to catch his breath.  At this point, there are beads of sweat working their way down his temples, and his chest is heaving with how turned on he is.  The plug is big — huge even — and it causes a searing burn as he pushes it in, but it feels so good.  He looks over at their clock to check the time.

_ Soon.  Louis should be here soon. _

Finally,  _ finally  _ the plug makes it all the way inside of him, and Harry needs to calm himself down so that he won’t come, because God, he wants to come.  So bad.  He turns on the plug to its lowest setting, and his body trembles from the buzzing sensation.

The fuzzy feeling creeps up on him like a cloud floating above him, so he squeezes his eyes shut.  At this point he’s whining,  _ wanting _ , willing Louis to get home as soon as possible because he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait.

_ Just breathe. _

Harry has to keep reminding himself to breathe, to focus.  He can’t let the cloud overtake him just yet, he needs to wait for Louis.  He  _ won’t _ do this without Louis.  Only Louis can give him what he wants, what he  _ needs _ .  

Harry hears the front door unlocking, and he lets out a breath of relief.

_ Finally. _

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

_ “ _ Fiance!  Oh fiance!”  Louis calls out into the small apartment as he flings his backpack to the ground and kicks off his shoes.  He’s turned in his last paper before easter hols and has a whole two weeks off of school and work.  It’s unprecedented.  He wants to kiss Harry — his  _ fiance _ (will he ever tire of that word?)  — and maybe go out and blow some money they don’t really have on a lot of alcohol.  

He hears something that sounds like their mattress squeaking from their bedroom and immediately heads in that direction.  

“Haz!  Let’s go out and get pissed!  I jus — “ the words die on his tongue because Harry is lying spread eagle in the center of their bed, completely naked, beads of sweat lining his torso like a road map.  “Harry?”  Louis isn’t proud, but his voice cracks, desperate and over eager, he could die from second hand embarrassment.  If only he cared.

Because Harry, his fiance, is laying on their bed, cock standing at attention with a purple plug (their largest one, by the way) vibrating in his arse.  

“Nnggh.  Lou —  _ fuck _ .  Need you.”

Louis is already peeling off his clothes and has his hand around his own cock before Harry finishes the sentence.  “Baby.  What’s...what’s going on?”

“I just.  Need you so bad.  Today.  Was shit.  And.   _ Fuck _ !”  Louis watches helplessly as Harry’s legs twitch and he fists the rumpled sheets with white knuckles.  

Louis is climbing on top of Harry within seconds, shushing him and pressing kisses all over his flushed face.  “Sshh.  ‘M here now.  Sshh.  It’s ok.  I’ve got you.”

Louis watches as the deep crease between Harry’s eyes smoothes out and his body relaxes underneath him.  “I’ve got you,” he repeats as he runs his hands over Harry’s sides and slides their cocks together.  

Harry arches his back and bares his neck as he lets out a deep wanton moan.  Louis starts mouthing over the column of his neck, licking his adam’s apple and biting down on the soft delicate skin covering his pulse point.  Harry’s legs fly out and wrap around him as if on instinct.  Louis keeps sucking, biting, and then lathing over the sore spots, and he can literally feel the anxiety start to seep out of Harry’s body.  

Louis knows what this is about.  It’s been a shit week for Harry and he gets so flustered when he gets stressed out.  He’s told Louis before that sex is a release for him.  But it’s always been hard for him to really talk about it, to really express what it is specifically about sex that helps him get through stressful times.    Harry hasn’t been this wound up in a while, and it makes Louis’ brain go a little fuzzy just watching his fiance try to stay calm, stay focused.  

“What do you need, Hazza?  My sweet beautiful boy.”  Harry thrashes about, groaning as Louis keeps friction on his cock.  With his own.  It’s kind of maddening, the way they slot together so perfectly.  

Harry seems unable to speak, his entire body fevered and taut and Louis knows he needs more.  Looking frantically around the room, he spies one of Harry’s head scarves lying on the floor.  Inspired, he scrambles off the bed and grabs it.  Harry moans and rolls around, almost like he can’t see, can’t even control how he is acting.  It reminds Louis of a man possessed — driven by some unseen force that controls him.

“Baby.  Put your arms up.”  

Harry complies, instantly.  Louis is amazed by how quickly he reacts.  As if Louis’ voice is all he is attuned to.  His eyes are open and glassy, and he stares at Louis with his mouth open slightly, harsh pants coming from his soft, sweet throat.  

Louis takes the scarf and wraps it around one wrist and then the other, securing them both to the headboard behind him.  He pulls on the scarf, the wooden slats groaning a bit, but is satisfied that the binding is tight.  

“You ok, baby?”  Louis watches, again completely amazed at the way Harry nods his head, his face smooth and relaxed as he stares into Louis’ eyes.  Louis leans down and rolls his tongue into Harry’s mouth, the other boy pliant and responsive, letting Louis lick inside and taste every corner.  Louis moans into the kiss, completely transfixed by the way Harry become so incredibly calm.  Harry’s legs open wider and he starts rolling his hips up into Louis’.  Louis can feel how wet Harry is and all he wants is to fuck all of it out of him.  Make him come.  Make him completely lose himself.  

Louis wants to help Harry  _ let go _ . Unwind.  Leave it all behind.  

Finally breaking the kiss, Louis shifts so he can reach down and gently pull the plug out from the tight hold Harry’s arse has on it.  Harry’s eyes fly open and he cries out as Louis fucks it in and out of him experimentally, knowing that the exact shape and size of it hits Harry’s spot dead on.  Every time.  Harry whines when Louis pulls it out, tossing it somewhere on the bed.  

“Gonna fuck you now baby.  Ok?”  Louis slowly wanks himself, the roughness of his palm grounding him, keeping him from shooting off right there.  

Harry bites his lip and arches his back again, his own dick leaking on his stomach and looking so mouthwatering, Louis has to stop himself from just swallowing him down.  “Need you to tell me it’s ok, Haz.”   _ Jesus _ , he’s so far gone, Louis thinks.  He’s never seen him this floaty — spacey.

Harry finally nods his head when Louis prompts him again.  Louis exhales, heavily, working to control his breathing because, he can already feel the way Harry is going to pull him in, tighten around his cock in the best possible way.  Being inside of Harry is quite possibly the best thing Louis has ever experienced.  And getting tested so they could forego condoms was quite possibly the best decision they’d ever made.  Being inside Harry  _ bare _ is... _ spectacular _ .

Louis finds the lube in the bedsheets and he covers himself liberally, hissing at the wet slide of his hand sliding over his length.  He can see Harry’s hole glistening so he’s pretty sure he’s wet and open enough, the plug having done the work in advance.  He pulls Harry’s legs up over his shoulders and watches Harry visibly melt further into the bed.  He looks like a vision — his body lax and soft and pliable and just so...willing.  Willing to let Louis do anything to him.  To just take.  

But the thing is, Louis doesn’t want to  _ take _ .  He wants to  _ give _ .  But, he knows that’s not what Harry wants, what Harry  _ needs _ .  With a start, Louis realizes that he has to take on a  _ role _ , a different persona, when Harry gets like this.  Harry needs him to be different. And, to Louis, it is the ultimate expression of love, to give Harry what he needs.  Now that he thinks about it, as he hovers above Harry, it’s more than just  _ acting _ different, it’s being himself, loving Harry with his whole heart and soul, while also exploring this other — more controlling, more powerful — side of himself.  This may be just as much for him as it is for Harry.

Louis wants to give Harry so, so much.  And right now, if he needs to be fucked into next week with his hands tied to the bed, then that’s what Louis is going to give him.  

It’s always better than Louis remembers.  That first, slow, almost suffocating push is so much.  Harry is so tight.  And again, he just lets Louis in.  And Louis wants to be gentle but he also feels the urgency thrumming through Harry’s body into his to just  _ fuckfuckfuck. _

“Louis!”  Harry’s hoarse cry sounds like a song to Louis, a sweet love song that makes Louis want to pick fucking wildflowers and write poetry or some shit.  But what he decides to do is move.  

He pulls out almost all the way and then slams back in, watching Harry’s face screw up and then relax almost immediately.  His mouth is slack and his eyes are wide and he looks so completely innocent right now.  He’s not even pulling against his restraints, willing to just let Louis do everything to him.  For him.  

Louis starts pumping his hips in and out, in and out, until he builds up a steady rhythm, all the while watching Harry for any signs of distress.  He finds the complete opposite.  Harry’s face is a vision of euphoria.  He is letting out these gorgeous panting moans in time with each slap of Louis’ hips against his arse and it is truly stunning.  To Louis, it feels like Harry has put every ounce of his trust in him.  And it is an awesome responsibility, one that Louis does not want to take lightly.  Couldn’t if he tried — he and Harry are so completely intertwined with each other.  

“Fuck.  Baby.”  Louis works harder to keep thrusting evenly into the tight, white heat of the boy underneath him.  “Feel so good.  Always.”  His breath is choppy, and he is feeling the exertion in his thighs, his arse.  “Always so good for me.   _ Baby _ .”  

And, like a switch flipping inside him, Harry’s body elongates and his arse clenches around Louis and he is coming.

_ Untouched _ .  

Never before in Louis’ life has he experienced anything like this.  

Harry’s coming all over himself, and Louis can’t fucking stand it - he pumps deep and hard as far inside Harry as he can go, and he is spilling.  He shouts up at the ceiling, Harry’s name hurtling out of his throat like a rocket.  And he can’t stop coming.  It feels so fucking good, his entire body succumbing to the feel, the smell, the complete rhapsody of his boyfriend beneath him.  His Harry.

Finally, when they have both stopped shaking and Louis feels sore and used, he slides gingerly out of Harry’s body, wincing at the sensation.   “Fuck.  Harry.   _ God _ .”  Louis groans as he falls aside Harry’s still trembling body.  Tears stain his cheeks and he is a lovely shade of rose.  His hair clings to the sides of his face and neck and he looks as if he’s just been fucked within an inch of his life.  

Louis reaches up and quickly undoes the scarf around Harry’s wrists.  His arms drop limply to his sides, and Louis covers him with his body, kissing him softly all over his mouth, cheeks, nose, eyelids….

His heart feels like it is literally growing inside of his body — too big to be contained.  He loves Harry so much.  He wonders if a lifetime is enough to show him.  To make him understand.  Harry’s eyes are still hazy and his mouth is curved in a small smile.  He must be sore, Louis wasn't very gentle when fucking him, but he's not showing it.  All he looks is happy.  And blissful.  And serene.  

Louis wants to get up and clean Harry up.  Maybe run him a bath.  Get him some water and a snack, make sure he’s ok.  But Harry is so floaty, so high, he doesn’t want to leave him just yet.  So, he snuggles up next to him and runs his hands through Harry’s hair, pushing the sweat-damp locks away from his face, kissing over his shoulder and bicep.  

For now, Louis is content to listen to the sound of Harry’s breathing and to just feel the way his boy’s body is loose and warm, completely void of tension.  Louis wonders how it feels to be Harry, to be that far away, but right here, right next to Louis in their bed at the same time.  He draws shapes on Harry’s torso as he sends up a silent prayer of thanks for this boy and the love they share.  And he waits.  Waits for Harry to come back to him.

  
  


~~~~

 

It's like being submerged underwater, Harry’s vision is blurry, and his hearing is fuzzy, like when you press your ear to a seashell to hear the waves.  It’s like being high, but without the drugs.  Not that Harry would really know much about that, since he hasn’t done anything stronger than weed.  This is better than any high he’s ever experienced.  

Like floating on a cloud.

Harry can faintly hear Louis’ voice, he can feel his warm body wrapped around him.  With each word that Louis murmurs in his ear, Harry can feel himself coming closer back down to earth.  It’s such a wonderful feeling, like being welcomed back home.

“My sweet lovely boy,” is the first clear thing Harry can hear Louis say.  He can’t help the dopey smile that adorns his face.  He loves being Louis’ sweet boy, he never wants that to stop.

“I love you,” he slurs, still feeling far away, Harry just knows that he has to let Louis know how much he loves him.  How much he appreciates him and everything he does for him.  He feels like such a ball of mush right now.

Harry can feel Louis’ fingers moving through his hair, which is a mixture of damp from sweat and from his shower earlier.  He hums appreciatively as he continues to come down, like a balloon that’s losing its helium.

Louis kisses him on the cheek, “I’ll be right back love,” he says in that soft airy voice he loves so much, and he whines at the lost of contact when Louis leaves the room.  Before he can properly complain about Louis’ absence, he’s back with a water bottle and a few biscuits.  He doesn’t make Harry ingest anything yet, just settles them on the night stand next to him before joining him back on the bed to resume their cuddling.

“Are you back with me, love?”  Louis asks him, rubbing his hip comfortingly.

Harry nods.

“Use your words baby,” Louis tells him, squeezing his hip gently.

“Yes,” he says.  It’s not slurry anymore, and Harry is mostly back now, but he still feels exhausted from all the exertion and the emotional push and pull of the afternoon.

Louis kisses him on top of his head, “Good,” he says as he reaches over for the water bottle and biscuits, “Now here, drink up, okay?”

Louis opens the water bottle for him, not letting up until Harry has drank a good amount of water.  He feeds him biscuits in between gulps of water until he’s had enough.

They lay in bed facing each other in comfortable silence, while Louis continues to play with Harry’s curls, making him occasionally close his eyes and hum--he loves having his hair played with.

“How are you feeling?”  Louis asks.  His voice is still a soft murmur, as if speaking any louder will scare Harry away.

Harry blinks at him, “‘M good, thank you for taking care of me,” he replies, leaning into Louis’ touch.

Louis pecks him on the lips.  He looks at Harry, his eyes full of adoration and radiating warmth. Harry’s own eyes begin to droop from feeling so loved and taken care of, and for the first time in weeks, he falls asleep without a thought about any stressful things.

The next morning Harry wakes up feeling refreshed, better than he has in a long time — the faint memories from last night make his stomach flutter.  He checks the time, and it’s not even half past eight yet.  It’s Saturday, and they don’t normally set their alarms on the weekend, both wanting to catch up on the sleep they lose during the week.  Harry turns around and finds the bed empty, which is strange because it’s usually Harry who has to drag his fiance out of bed on weekend mornings.  He takes a wee before throwing on some pants and a t-shirt as he makes his way through their flat to look for Louis.  

Just as he’s about to check their kitchen, the front door clicks open and Louis emerges with a tray of beverages and a paper bag.

“Good morning love, fancy some breakfast?”  

Harry smiles, “I’d love some,” he says, taking the paper bag from Louis as they walk to their living room.  Louis hands him his drink, and Harry takes a sip of it immediately.  It’s tea, just the way he likes it, and he hums appreciatively.  “Thank you,” he says leaning over to peck Louis on the lips, “You were up early.”

Louis shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep much,” he says turning towards the kitchen before Harry can question him further.  

They catch up on their favorite shows that have been saved in their DVR all week while they eat their breakfast.  Harry’s eyes keep drawing back to Louis to see if there’s a trace of anything that might be bothering him.  Louis doesn’t give anything away, though, as he continues sipping on his tea and taking a bite of his bagel breakfast sandwich.  

He’s  oddly quiet, even while they watch Shameless, which is weird.  Louis always has something to say when it comes to the shenanigans those characters pull every episode.  

“You okay?” Harry can’t help but ask.

Louis turns his head towards him but his eyes are still set on the tv for a few more seconds before he finally looks at Harry, “Yep.”

“You seem a bit...off.”

Louis reaches for the remote to pause the show.  He turns to face Harry, his face is pensive, as if he’s trying to figure out the best way to say what he wants to say.  Harry’s heart races against his chest, the longer Louis takes to talk.  His mind is coming up with all types of scenarios and he’d just like to urge Louis to speak, but he also wants to give him the time he needs to get his thoughts in order.  

Louis takes a deep breath, “So I’ve just been thinking,” he chuckles and it makes Harry relax a bit, “I’m sorry I’ve never done anything like this before, so I’m not sure how to even begin but,” he pauses for a second and takes Harry’s hand and for a moment it reminds him of when Louis proposed to him in the middle of a shop while Harry was trying to decide between candle scents.  Harry’s stomach flutters at the memory.

“Last night was just, amazing.  Seeing you so...out of it...so  _ needy _ , it was incredible,” Louis tells him.  His voice is raspy as if just thinking about it is turning him on, and Harry can’t blame him because his own cock is twitching in his pants.

Harry begins to nibble on his bottom lip, as Louis continues, “I just love how you let go and let me take care of you.  I don’t think I can describe what I feel knowing you trust me that much,” Louis’ voice breaks a little at the end and he clears his throat.  

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand, “And I love how well you take care of me, and just know what I need when I often can’t even find the words to say them.”

Louis kisses him sweetly and softly- he tastes like tea, like home.

“What’s it like?  When you get like that — so...far away, I mean,” Louis asks.  Harry thinks about it for a moment, because they’ve never spoken about it before.  Now that Louis’ brought it up, he finds himself wanting to tell Louis as much as he can about it.

“It’s hard to explain because I’m still trying to figure it out myself, but it’s like floating.  You’re there, but your mind is elsewhere.  Kind of like when you’re half asleep?  But so much better,” Harry tries to explain.  

Louis hums in thought, “Yeah.  I think I know what you mean.”  He bites his lip and fidgets a little.  “Okay...so now that I have you fully here with me, can you tell me more about why you get like that.  Or, like...what makes you like that sometimes and not other times?”  

Harry watches Louis’ face for any signs of discomfort or judgement.  He finds none.  “It’s sort of like...you know how sometimes you want ice cream?  Like really, really want ice cream?”  Louis chuckles and puts his tea down, nodding for Harry to continue.  “And like, sometimes you want butter pecan and sometimes you want something richer, darker.  Like...double chocolate espresso?”

Louis smiles broadly, easing Harry’s mind and making him want to continue.  “Yeah.  I think I know what you mean.”

“So sometimes,”  Harry continues, pulling Louis into his lap, Louis turning so he can straddle him on their old, second hand couch.  “Sometimes, I love regular old sex.  And sometimes I need more.  Like I need you to just take over.  Control me.”  He whispers that last part, because that’s what this is all about.  Control.  Surrendering his all to Louis.  

Louis bends down and brings their mouths together.  He kisses Harry so soft and sweet, it makes Harry’s insides melt.  He loves him so, so much.  

Louis pulls away, their faces just inches apart.  “Thanks for telling me.”

They are quiet for a moment, the flat peaceful and still in the early morning light, sharing each other’s warmth and breath, before Louis breaks the silence.  “What do you need from me?”

Harry looks at Louis and sees gentle curiosity on his boyfriend’s face.  “Hm?”

“You know...when you kind of, like...want double chocolate espresso ice cream?”

Harry covers his mouth, the laugh that erupts loud and bordering on obnoxious. Louis joins him, dropping off his lap so that they are snuggling on the couch again.  After a few moments, Harry feels himself struggling to put it into words.  “I guess just...take over?  I mean.  I just need you to control me.  Make me do things for you.  Do things to me.  I dunno, it’s stupid.”  Harry hides his face in the crook of Louis’ neck, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over him.  

Louis guides Harry’s face back up so that he can look into Harry’s eyes.  “Hey,” he commands gently, “You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.  Ever.”  

Harry sees how earnest Louis is, his face sincere and so, so kind.  He feels himself nodding his head, knowing deep down that Louis is right.  He doesn’t have to be embarrassed about this — about anything with Louis.  They are partners in every sense of the word.  

“Thanks,” Harry whispers, staring into the never ending blue of Louis’ eyes.  “I just — sometimes I like just having plain old regular sex.  Not that anything about sex is plain old regular with you.”  Louis smiles and gives Harry a small kiss on his jaw.  He sits back and gestures for Harry to continue.  “But I...I just feel like sometimes I want to please you.  Make you happy.  During sex.  Like have you tell me what to do, you know? And then I...other times I feel like I just want you to like...bite me...hold me down and make me just…” he takes a deep breath, inhaling the courage he needs to verbalize the rest, “take it.”

Louis’ breath hitches and Harry watches his pupils dilate right before his very eyes.  The other man licks his lips and tangles deft fingers into Harry’s curls.  “Yeah?” he breathes, finding his way to Harry’s neck, scraping his teeth over a raw spot from last night.

Harry whines as the soreness of the bite travels straight to his groin. “Yeah.”  

Louis switches sides, licking along Harry’s jawline, making his whole body relax in his arms.  He whispers, “I think I can manage that.”

Harry’s eyes roll back in his head as Louis drops to the floor between his legs.  He feels relief and a sense of calm flood his body.  It's so hard expressing all that he feels for Louis — let alone sex with him — but he thinks, that maybe, he’s just begun to scratch the surface of what it is that he needs.  What he wants.

  
  
~~~~

 

On Monday, when Harry walks into their flat after work he’s hit with a delicious aroma that instantly makes his mouth water.

“Lou?”  He calls out, surprised to find Louis already home because Harry’s usually the one to get home first.  He walks to the kitchen where he figures Louis is, and finds his fiance with an apron taking something out of the oven.

“What’s all this?”

Louis looks at Harry with a bright smile after putting the dish down, “Hey love,” he says leaning towards Harry to give him a kiss.  “Just making dinner is all.”

Harry finally manages to tear his gaze away from Louis to see what he’s made.  There’s a square dish filled to the brim with lasagna with lots of melted cheese on top and a pan with garlic bread that smells heavenly.  “Looks good.”

Harry puts his messenger bag on the desk and washes his hands.  “Can I set the table?”

“Please,” Louis responds, pouring two healthy glasses of wine.

It’s cheesy, but Harry takes his glass and curls his arm around Louis’ so that their faces come close together and they have to contort their bodies slightly to take their first sips.  Before they do, Harry whispers, “To random weeknight dinners.”

Louis gives him that heart-stopping smile of his and pushes in further, Harry’s wine coming closer to sloshing out of the glass.  “And gorgeous fiancees.”

That word never ceases to get Harry’s heart racing.  He feels a surge of heat race down his body, stopping at his cock, making it perk up in interest.  “We...um...better eat before it gets cold.”  

Louis just smirks at him, bastard that he is — because he knows how commitment turns Harry on.  They sit next to each other, close enough that Harry can feel the warmth pouring off Louis.  The first bite has Harry moaning in delight, everything seasoned perfectly, tasting just like home.  

“So?  Dinner?”  

“What?  I can’t make dinner for you?  Can’t spoil you a little?”  

Harry sips from his wine glass and arches an eyebrow.  “Ok fine,” Louis relents, “We finally finished the Reynolds project.”

“Babe!  That’s great news.”  Harry leans over and kisses the side of Louis’ mouth, noting the smudge of sauce in the corner.  He takes his finger and wipes it off, sucking on it afterward.  

Louis’ eyes darken at that and he continues, “Just wanted to celebrate a little.  Missed you is all.”

Harry feels his heart flutter in his chest.  “I’ve missed you too, “ he whispers.

It’s quiet for a moment before Harry continues, “I had a good day too. The watercolors were a hit and I got a nice note from a parent.”

Louis smiles and they finish their dinner, conversation flowing like a gentle stream. They continue to talk and eat and drink wine, finishing the entire bottle.   Harry’s cheeks are warm, and he’s feeling a bit tipsy, but it’s comfortable and relaxing.

When they finish dinner Harry sets about cleaning up, clearing the table and washing the dishes. As he grabs the empty wine bottle, the mixture of water and soap on his hands causes it to slip through his fingers and shatter on the floor.

“Shit!”  He carefully reaches for the broom that’s thankfully within reach and sweeps up the pieces of glass.  

Louis pops his head into the kitchen, “You alright?”

Harry smiles shaking his head, “Just my clumsy arse at it again,” he says laughing.

“I oughta put you over my knee and give you a good spanking,” Louis mutters chuckling.

Harry freezes.  His pulse races so hard he can feel the blood rushing fast and hot throughout his body, like a livewire, zinging through him in a delirious rush.  Harry’s mouth goes dry, and his eyes are wide.  And when Louis turns around to look at him after being silent for so long, it’s like Louis just  _ knows _ .  He  _ understands _ .  Harry loves him so fucking much.

Louis helps Harry finish cleaning up with a sort of silent urgency that’s radiating between them.  Harry doesn’t really have a clear recollection of what happens between the kitchen and the bedroom because suddenly, he’s settled on top of Louis’ knee, naked and breathing so hard he feels like he just ran a marathon — and Louis hasn’t even put a hand on him.  Then, like rain settling into a drought ravaged soil, he can finally feel Louis’ hand on his bum, and it’s soft and warm, reassuring.  Harry balls up his fists in anticipation, his body buzzing with all the pent up stress and the day’s exhaustion quickly ebbing away from the excitement over what’s to come.

Harry holds his breath for just a moment, thrumming in anticipation, because he knows it’s coming and he wants it, he  _ needs _ it.  And when the first slap lands on his bum cheek, it still manages to drive the air out of him in a heavy whoosh from the impact.   The pain comes, it’s dull at first, but it intensifies with every slap.  The only sound he hears is the noise of Louis’ hand making contact with his bum, skin against skin echoing throughout the room, and the loud whirring of blood in his ears, drowning out all conscious thought.  Louis doesn’t count the slaps out loud, keeping Harry on his toes, not knowing when it’s going to stop. He can easily make it stop, knowing Louis would if he asked him to, but Harry knows Louis’ got him even if sometimes words fail him.  

Louis stops at one point and runs his hand over the raw, tender skin of Harry’s arse.  Harry whines and bucks his bum up into the too gentle touch.  Harry feels light and floaty, and like he’s hanging right on the edge, his fingers slipping.  He just needs something...something he can’t quite articulate.

“I —”  Harry can’t even recognize his own voice.  It’s uneven and broken and bordering on a kind of hysterical desperation.

And Louis knows, always knows, what Harry can take, “More?”  His voice comes through Harry’s thought like a cool compress, taking the edge off and making him focus just enough.  

“Make...give it to me.  I — “  Harry’s pretty sure he’s crying now.  But he just pushes it back, the unspoken need surging between them.  

“I’ve got you.  Pretty, pretty Hazza.  I’ve got you.”

Then, there’s another slap.  And another and another.  And then...finally...Harry  slides under.  The pain begins to fade, and finally,  _ finally  _ Harry can just _ let go. _

_ And he does. _

He closes his eyes, and focuses on his breathing.  

_ In and out. _

Harry’s ears are ringing, but he feels so relaxed.  Everything around him has gone fuzzy, and there’s no real way to describe it because it can’t really be compared to anything.  Harry feels like he’s floating on a cloud, and he can’t help smiling, delirious from what it does to him, what Louis does to him.  

It feels like surrendering not only his control, his body, but his life, his very soul to Louis. And it's liberating because he knows Louis will take good care of him, will cherish him and make sure that he gets everything he needs, everything he craves. And that's like sucking down lungfuls of helium and floating into a bright cerulean sky, higher and higher until it feels like he'll never come down.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the slaps stop. And Louis’ hand is gone.  Harry is left panting and still floating, floating, floating...and then, from far away, as if coming from the end of a tunnel, Harry hears Louis’ voice, deep and commanding, authoritative in a way it normally never is, “Don’t come.”

 

~~~~~~

  
  


Louis’ hand stings.  It fucking  _ hurts _ .  And here’s Harry lying placidly across his lap, writhing and moaning like he’s about to bust a nut — both of them, actually — and it’s making Louis positively beam with pride that he’s done this.  Made Harry like this.  

And Louis really wants to come.  

So there’s that too.

Harry’s bum is red hot and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat all over his body.  His arms are shaking, his weight almost too much to bear in his lofty state.  Louis wants to take care of him now, wants to wrap him up and tell him how good he is, how perfect he is for him, but he also wants to push it a little.  See if he can extend this tentative boundary further.  

After they talked about what Harry needs and how he sometimes likes to have Louis take control, Louis has been intrigued.  Obsessed, actually.  Because he likes the way it feels to have Harry need him so much — so much  _ like that _ .  Makes him feel like he is the only one who can do that — give that to Harry.  He likes knowing that he is the only one who can protect Harry, who can make him feel like this.  Who can get him off in such an intense and very, very specific way.  And, God, he always wants to give that to Harry.  And, frankly, it turns him on desperately.  Knowing that Harry trusts him with this, wants that from him.  And to Louis, there is nothing, no one, that he loves — trusts — more than Harry.

He runs feathery soft hands over Harry’s twitchy backside, enamored by the lovely pink color of his tiny, round bum.  When he tells Harry not to come, Harry wilts like a bright flower under the hot summer sun.  His ability to submit is awe inspiring.  It makes Louis’ heart soar.  

He helps Harry to the mattress, laying him out like a present.  He’s on his back, arms and legs spread wide with such a look of complete peace on his face, Louis’ brain short circuits.  He’s so beautiful like this.  So, so beautiful.  He’s everything Louis could ever want.  Louis sees how Harry winces at the touch of the bedding on his reddened, sore skin.  

“You ok?  Here...turn on your side.”  Louis goes to move Harry and Harry stops him with a loose hand around his wrist.

“No — I — I want it.”  

Louis studies his face and can see that he’s still under but seems to know what he wants, a glorious flush covering his face and his eyes glazed over.  He’s — he’s actually writhing a little...whining at the sensation of the soft cotton scraping over his bum.  And Louis did that to him.  Made him feel like that.  And, God.  It’s so much.  

“Baby.  Drink some water.  You are doing so good for me.  So good.”  Louis lifts the glass with the straw sticking out to Harry’s full pink lips.  Harry takes a long gulp, some of it spilling down his chin, skittering over his Adam’s apple.  

Louis places the glass on the table and leans down to lick the errant drop from Harry’s salt-soaked skin.  He brings his tongue up over the strong line of his jaw and licks into Harry’s mouth.  Harry moans deeply and rolls his tongue erotically over Louis’.  Louis climbs between his legs and grinds down in a sinful roll of tendons and muscles, feeling the way Harry opens up wider and lets him use him, let’s him take what he needs — what he wants.

“So perfect, love.  Always so perfect.  Gonna let you come soon, yeah?”  Louis feels his release coiling deep inside of him, feels it coming hard and fast.  

Harry rolls his hips up in time with Louis’, arching his back into it, groaning when Louis’ cock rubs up against his just right.  “Lou…” he whines, body wracked with tremors, the effort to not climax taking its toll.

“S okay, baby, it’s okay.  I’ve got you.”  Louis pushes Harry’s legs back with his own, so that he’s in more of a crouch, hovering over Harry, but still able to feel the heat emanating off of the other boy.  He puts his fingers in Harry’s mouth, slowing the undulation of his hips, “Suck,” he commands.  

Harry’s eyes are wide and he stares directly into Louis’ eyes, rolling his perfect wet tongue all around Louis’ fingers.  Louis grabs his dick to keep from coming.  He’s always loved Harry’s mouth — more than most anything in this world — and so having Harry suck on his fingers like he’s giving the most enthusiastic head of his life is distracting, to say the least.

“Haz — ok, baby.  Ok.  Let go, “ Louis says gently, pulling his hand from Harry’s mouth  with a loud, wet, pop.  Harry whines, his mouth still agape, showing his sinful tongue beyond.  

God.  Louis loves his mouth.

Sliding back into position, so he can grab both of their cocks in his hand, Louis tells Harry, “Love you so much, baby.  Gonna let you come soon.  Ok?  You’ve been so good for me.”  

Harry cries out as Louis starts jacking them both off quickly, almost efficiently, the need to come stronger than ever now.  He feels white hot heat building at the base of his spine and all it takes is one look down at Harry’s flushed torso and the way his entire body is lying there waiting for him — waiting for him to give him permission to fucking come, for Christ’s sake.  And that’s all it takes, knowing Harry has put his pleasure in his hands, literally — the sound of spit and come easing the slide of their cocks is pornographic, and paired with Louis’ airy gasps and Harry’s deep whines — and Louis is coming.

“Come, Harry!  Come!”  Louis yells out at the last minute, and Harry is coming too.  

They are both shooting off in Louis’ hand,and Louis watches as their come mixes all over Harry’s tummy, and Harry is pulling Louis down with his strong thighs, trapping him in place.  Louis finishes them off, his hand slightly stilted, being trapped between their stomachs, but he still manages.  Harry holds him tight, arms and legs wrapped around him.  Louis finally manages to get arms around Harry and he pants into Harry’s hair.

“Shh...Shh.  It’s ok.  You did so good.  My beautiful, beautiful boy.”  Louis feels Harry’s lungs expand and contract underneath him and he can feel tears on his cheeks.  He kisses over them and runs shaky hands all over his skin — anywhere he can reach.  

“Love you, baby.  Love you.”  

Harry sighs and Louis lays beside him, catching his breath.  Harry turns toward him and drapes his arms and legs all over him, wriggling until he gets comfortable.  Louis laughs quietly, under his breath, and moves so he can cuddle Harry.  He wipes a few tears from his own eyes and finds himself willing his wildly beating heart to calm down.  There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this boy.  Nothing.   


	3. Year Three: Terms

Spring morphs into summer, and Louis finds himself falling into an effortless, domestic routine.  Living with Harry is just... _ easy _ .  He never thought he would fall in love so deeply, so purely, in his life.  Louis finishes the first year of his Master’s degree and is happy to have the summer off to focus on work.  And Harry.

They spend countless nights on the roof of their building, dragging a small bistro set up that Harry found in the rubbish.  They drink cheap bottles of wine and smoke when the mood strikes them.  They look at the small smattering of stars that shine bright enough to twinkle through the city light.  They tumble into bed, sometimes making love, sometimes indulging in their newly discovered set of needs.  Often they just curl up with each other and fall asleep talking and listening to the way their breathing sounds like a love song.

It’s Saturday morning, mid-August, and the air is already hot and close.  Harry’s out doing the food shopping for the week, and Louis just finished paying their bills for the month.  He has his laptop out and decides to scratch an annoying itch that’s been tickling at the edge of his subconsciousness for weeks.

He types “submissive” into the search engine.  He’s not surprised by the massive amount of entries that pop up.  He starts perusing the articles and blogs, the psychology sites and all of the oddly fascinating hook-up sites.  He gets overwhelmed quickly.  

It’s not that what’s blossomed between he and Harry is bothering him, per se,  he wants to make sure that he’s  doing things  _ right _ .  He finds himself worrying now and again about how to make sure that he’s not doing some kind of permanent damage to Harry’s psyche or something.  And, he’s curious.  He’s starting to think of himself as the “dom” in their relationship, and it’s thrilling.  

He reads about how important it is to set up ground rules and to determine things like  _ limits _ and  _ consent _ .  He reads over and over how important trust is and that at the heart of a dominant/submissive relationship is control.  Meaning, control lies within the hands of the sub, Harry in their case.  

Louis’ head is spinning as he processes this.  He thinks back to all of the times Harry has needed Louis to take control, to guide him, to either restrain or inflict pain on him (pain that always looks like a life altering experience to Harry — even though it’s not really Louis’ cup of tea)...and he realizes that, yes, Harry had complete control over the situation.  Harry asked for it, sometimes explicitly and sometimes through his actions.  But he told Louis what he needed, and Louis complied.  

He’ll always give Harry whatever he wants.

Which is why he’s googling D/s dynamics on a Saturday morning instead of being sprawled out on the couch with a bag of crisps on his chest and a hand in his pants watching bad DIY telly.  

A site catches his eye, and he slowly scrolls through the words, piecing together a little bit of the motivation behind Harry’s needs.  The woman — the sub — talks about her need to feel the release of endorphins caused by pain during sexual acts.  Louis’ cock gives a little twitch, remembering the last time he spanked Harry and how long he’d been out of it afterward.  Harry’s face had been a study of opposites.  A whirring combination of agony and unbridled pleasure spanned his features, making Louis desperate to get off, to join Harry in that place of release.  

He continues to read.  He learns that dominance and submission are just a part of the larger BDSM culture, and that it’s common for couples to experience some or none of the activities in that culture.  He’s intrigued by the spectrum of some of the acts — squeamish by some and completely enthralled by others.  He palms himself lightly over his joggers, just thinking of doing some of these things to,  _ with _ , Harry.   

The last thing he finds is an interesting perspective on the role of the dom.  His role, apparently, is to care for the sub.  To keep him safe and to plan the scenarios based on the rules and parameters they’ve agreed to.  Louis’ head swims.  He  _ wants _ to be the one to take care of Harry.  He wants to give him all that he needs and then be there to care for him after.  He’s done that already, intuitively, without even realizing it.  Every time he waits for Harry to come back to him, he praises him, touches him reverently, makes sure he eats, he drinks...he cleans him up and tucks him into bed.  

Calls him baby.

His memory flashes to a passage he read a few moments ago about daddy kink.  He cups a hand over his mouth and laughs.  He’s not sure that he’s anyone’s daddy, let alone Harry’s.  But still...his cock seems to fatten up at the thought.  And that’s…

Shit.

In that moment, Louis realizes the depth of his love, his sheer willingness to do everything and anything for Harry.  He’d...fuck, he’d even let Harry call him daddy.   _ Jesus _ .  He runs a hand through his hair and feels perspiration prickling at his hairline.  

His phone buzzes on the table, shaking him out of his reverie.  He clears his throat and checks the text.  It’s Harry telling him he’s downstairs and needs help with the groceries.  He snaps his laptop shut, almost as if Harry had actually been snooping over his shoulder.  He scribbles a little note on the back of the gas bill (Harry will never check there — he’s positively allergic to bill paying) with the title of a book he wants to buy for Harry.  With one last adjustment to his, thankfully, shrinking dick he slips on his slide sandals and races down the stairs to help Harry.  

They get the groceries put away, and Louis is reaching to put some tinned beans in the cabinet when Harry pinches his bum.  

“Cheeky!”  Louis squawks, turning to find Harry grinning at him like a big dope.  

“Couldn’t help it,” Harry shrugs, a half eaten apple in his hand.  He always does that, Louis thinks, eats half the groceries before they even get them unpacked.  

Louis lets Harry bracket him up against the counter, his long arms lean and firm against his biceps.  He inhales the familiar smell of Harry — cloves and vanilla and a little bit like citrus — and looks into his eyes.  Mischief dances in the green there and Louis bites back a smile.  

“Is that right?”  

“Hm.”  Harry nuzzles Louis’ neck, tickling him with his wayward tendrils of hair that curled every which way in the warm humid air.

Harry grips Louis’ face and uses his thumbs to gently caress along his cheekbones.  Louis melts into his touch willingly.  Harry’s hands are a thing of magic, and Louis loves having them on him.  Their lips brush and Harry kisses him sweetly, without much heat, just gentle, soft brushes of dry lips against dry lips.  Louis smirks at the feel of Harry’s fledgling whiskers rasping against his nearly full grown beard.  

“You smell like apples,” Louis observes, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry hums and pulls Louis away from the counter, placing firm hands at the small of his back.  Their bodies mould together like twilight eclipsing the sun, it feels warm and good and so, so right.  Louis squeezes him tighter.  “Love you,” he whispers.

Harry runs his hands up and down Louis’ back in long comforting strides.  “Love you too.”

After a few moments, Harry backs away and starts eating his apple again.  Louis pulls out a bottle of water, and they go to the couch to talk about their plans for the rest of the day.  They spend nearly an hour talking, tickling and goofing around.  Finally, they scratch all the possible ideas they come up with for the day and end up pulling out scrabble and decide to stay in and order Thai for dinner.  

Harry is kicking Louis’ arse spectacularly.  Louis feels like maybe he should pour himself a shot or three.  There are grains of rice scattered across their coffee table and Louis’ fingers are sticky with peanut sauce.  

“Babe.  You can pass.”

Louis glares at Harry.  No fucking way.  Harry would probably like that, wouldn’t he, Louis thinks, moving his tiles around futilely.  “Aha!” he shouts, feeling victorious, even though his word won’t close the 133 point gap Harry has on him right now.  

He slowly places the tiles on the board, fully aware he’s not getting any double or triple anythings and he’s using his blank tile for the highest point letter tile...but.  Still.  It’s a word.  And a damn good one.

“You can’t use that!”  Harry protests, his normally deep mellow voice rising an octave and coming out almost at a normal speed.  

Louis chuckles and pulls the pen and pad closer to mark his score.  “Seven points!”  He’s shrill.  He doesn’t care.

“Lou.   _ Wank _ does not count.”  Harry stares at Louis, disbelief turning his mouth into a firm line.  It doesn’t really work on him, though, his lips are so pretty and plump they can’t be anything other than pretty, pretty, pretty.

Louis leans over the table and kisses the frown right off of his fiance’s face.  “ _ Wank _ ,” he whispers, leaning back into his place.

“It’s slang!”  Harry’s face is flushed and he’s not letting it go.

“Babe.  You are royally kicking my arse.  Like it’s your job.  I think you can let a little slang get past you.”  Louis takes a few tiles from the pouch and levels Harry with what he hopes is a stern gaze.

Harry watches him for a moment and then shakes  his head.  “Wank.  Can’t believe —”

“You love me.”  

Harry sighs.  “I love you.”

“ _ I  _ love watching you wank.”  The words leave Louis’ mouth like an afterthought, completely unfiltered and honest.  He does.  Watching Harry’s big hand around his big dick is  _ unreal _ .  

Louis is moving around his tiles, thinking about his next move when he realizes the room has gone incredibly still and quiet, the only sound in the whole flat is the fan buzzing overhead and the low rumble of their refrigerator in the kitchen.  He looks up sharply at Harry and sees that his eyes have gone round and there is a lovely flush on the apples of his cheeks — different than his annoyance over the slang.  More like — he’s turned on at the idea of Louis getting turned on watching him.  

“You…”  

Louis puts his letter O tile back in the wooden tray.  He licks his lips.  “Yeah.  I mean.  You’re so... _ hot _ when you get yourself all riled up.  And...like you can’t...you can’t handle it?  And you need me to just take care of you?”

He can see Harry’s breathing increase, and he swears Harry’s nipples weren’t that puffy through his thin white t-shirt a moment ago.  

“You like watching me.”  It isn’t a question.  It’s a statement.  

Louis exhales, eyes catching on the curve of Harry’s long beautiful neck.  “Yeah.  I do.”  His voice is sincere.  

They stare at each other for a few seconds and then Harry looks away, tucking his hair behind his ear.  He looks back at Louis and smiles, like he has a secret.  “Good to know.”

Louis laughs lightly and feels his eyebrows scrunch up in slight confusion.  Harry is an enigma.  He can go from being pensive and thoughtful to silly and theatrical in milliseconds.  And, apparently, he can go from thinking about jacking off in front of his fiance to laying down a 64 point word in the next.

_ Fucker _ .

  
~~~~

 

The start of a new school year always has it’s ups and downs.  On one side, Harry gets to meet a new batch of students, and he gets to share with them one of his greatest passions:  art.  He gets to help shape the lives of tomorrow, and it’s always something that makes him look forward to going to work every day.  On the other side, working with teenagers can get pretty hectic, not to mention how busy his schedule gets during the school year.  Also, having to say goodbye to the summer holidays is always a bummer.

Harry is trying his best to enjoy his last few days of freedom, laying in bed with his laptop as he finishes up his lesson plans.  Louis’ semester already began, and he’s still not due to be home for another couple of hours, so Harry is enjoying a bit of alone time trying to get things done because when Louis is around, he can get very...distracting.

When he finally finishes his lesson plans, he checks his email, Facebook, and other social media.  Once he’s done with that, he looks at the time.  He opens a new window and goes into Google, biting his bottom lip as he thinks about his next move.  He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and types in ‘bdsm’ into the search engine.  Just typing it out and clicking enter gives him this indescribable thrill that travels throughout his whole body.

There’s over 333 million results, the first being a wikipedia page, so he clicks on it-- nothing like starting with the basics, he thinks.  And wow, there’s a lot more to it than Harry thought there was.  He reads through the entire page, starting from the terminologies and subtypes (bondage/discipline, dominant/submissive, sadism/masochism), types of play (bondage, cock and ball torture, control, etc).  Harry clicks through the ones that interest him most, wanting to just learn more about it.  There’s safe words, and wax play, and all sorts of scenarios that Harry couldn’t have even imagined, but he really wants to try.  There’s some that seem like they’d be too extreme for him, but others, just the thought of them make his cock twitch.

By the time he’s done with that page, his face is flushed and he’s sporting a semi, and he hasn’t even started scratching the surface of his research.  Harry closes his laptop, setting it aside on his nightstand.  He glances again at the clock and sees that Louis is due home soon.  He lies there for a minute trying to calm his breathing before he takes off his clothes, and puts a hand on himself, slowly working himself up to hardness.  

It’s just...he’s overwhelmed with information, and Harry couldn’t help but picture himself and Louis trying out some of the scenarios described.  The pictures provided didn’t help either.  Picturing himself handcuffed to the bed, with a gag, just...Harry’s hand works faster, his cock already leaking at the tip.  And the thought of having a collar, something that would always remind Harry who he belonged to...Harry moans at the thought, his fingers from his other hand graze his neck as if the collar will magically appear, as if he can touch the leather on his fingertips.  He can feel the heat from his impending orgasm making it’s way, but he slows down because...because he doesn’t want to come.  

_ Not yet. _

“Haz?”  Louis calls as he enters their flat.

“Lou!” He groans out, body arching against the bed.  Harry can hear Louis’ rapid footsteps, and when he appears on the bedroom doorway, his mouth drops.

“What do you need?” Louis’ voice is urgent, full of desire.  He stands, motionless, at the entryway, waiting for Harry to lead the way.

Harry whines, he hasn’t stopped stroking himself, but he  _ needs _ Louis to tell him.  “Please Lou, I need to come,” he slurs.

Harry watches as Louis’ eyes widen in realization, quickly replaced with a steely look of determination.  He walks towards the bed, swallowing hard.   Harry can see his Adam’s apple bob, and it makes Harry whimper at the show of masculinity.  He stands next to the bed, he’s so close Harry could probably reach out for him and touch.  Louis leans over, his breath hot against Harry’s ear.

“Come, my sweet boy.”

It’s like something inside Harry snaps, ripping the orgasm out of him, hot spurts of come spilling all over his hand and tummy.  He feels Louis’ fingers in his hair as the aftershocks ripple through his body.

“You did so good baby,” Louis’ voice rasps as he continues to caress Harry’s hair while he comes down from his high.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, smiling, content.  When he opens his eyes, he sees Louis’ pants pooled at his feet and a hand working quickly on his own dick.  

“You look so good like that.  Love seeing you touching yourself.  It’s so fucking hot,” Louis grunts out.  Harry preens and moves from the bed, dropping to his knees on wobbly legs, in front of Louis.  He looks up at him with hooded eyes, opening his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out, ready to catch Louis’ come.  It only takes Louis a few more strokes before he’s coming, the drops landing on Harry’s tongue, and some of them making it to his nose and cheek.  He swallows, licking his lips making sure not to leave anything behind.

“Come here,” Louis helps him up, pecks him on the lips once, before running his tongue to clean up the come on Harry’s face and licking it into Harry’s mouth.  The kiss is wet and dirty, all tongue and teeth, and Harry moans into Louis’ mouth.  Harry can’t get enough of Louis, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

 

~~~~~

 

“Babe.  Just be happy I didn’t bring the big one.”  Louis means it to be conciliatory, an olive branch of sorts,  but it doesn’t seem to appease Harry.  It just makes him whine louder, shifting in his seat, trying to get comfortable with the plug nestled snugly inside his arse.  

Harry wriggles a little more, a pretty pink color rising high on his cheeks.  “Lou…”

“Sshh.  Baby.  I know, I know.  Be a good boy for me.  If you are really, really good…”  Louis leans down and licks around the shell of Harry’s ear, breathing hot in his ear.  “If you are really good, I’ll fuck you in your old bed.  Fuck you so hard you’ll want to scream.  Might have to gag you and everything”

Harry grips the sides of the chair he’s gingerly perched upon with white knuckles, heat pouring off of his skin, leeching into Louis’ own.  He drops his forehead to Louis’ shoulder and breathes.  Louis synchs up his breathing so they are inhaling, exhaling...inhaling, exhaling.  

“That’s right my good, good boy.  Just breathe.  Have a lot to do today, yeah?”  Louis scratches along Harry’s scalp, eliciting a sweet purring noise from his boy.  “That’s right, love.  Be good.”  

Harry looks up at Louis and smiles, soft and pink.  Everything about him is so soft and pink right now, in this moment, the late morning light streaming through the window of Harry’s childhood bedroom.  

“Sshhh.  Don’t want your mum and Robin to hear you do you?”  Louis uses his firmest voice possible, knowing it will get him the best possible result — Harry flustered and perfectly obedient.  

They’d arrived at Harry’s mum and stepdad’s house late last night and barely said hello before falling asleep in Harry’s bed.  Louis loved that it still smelled like Harry in here, but really, more like a memory of him.  And it smelled like Anne — fresh and clean, like gingersnaps and lemons.  Harry is always so relaxed when he’s at home.  It’s like he leaves everything behind as soon as he crosses the threshold.  Louis loves coming home with him, loves being included in the Styles’ family.  It’s special, and it  makes Louis love Harry all the more.  

A few days ago they’d been tangled up in their bed talking about stuff —  _ sex stuff  _ — they hadn’t tried yet when Harry said, “Yeah...I’ve always thought I’d like to be edged.”  

Louis had tilted his head.  “Um...I’m embarrassed to ask but...edged?”

Harry nuzzled in closer and ran his nose up the side of Louis’ neck.  Louis shivered.  “Like...it’s where you wouldn’t...um...let me come?  Like for awhile.  Like you’d make me wait and bring me just to the edge a few times.  And, when you say I can…”

Louis had felt his throat go dry and he reflexively tightened his arms around Harry’s slim body.  _ Oh _ .  

And that had been it.  Once Louis got a handle on what edging was, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Thinking about watching Harry unravel little by little, only to be brought back from the ledge over and over again.  It made him  _ hard _ just thinking about it.  Unbearably so.  

“Baby,” Louis coos, helping Harry stand up and walk to the closed door.  “Doing so good for me, aren’t you?  Always so good.”  

Harry smiles beatifically at Louis, shining like a fucking ray of sunshine, and Louis thinks his heart could burst from how much he cares for him.  

“Thank you.”  Harry says simply, brushing his hair from his face, trying to school his expression in preparation for seeing his mother.  

“You’re welcome, babe.”  

Louis gives Harry a soft pat on the bum as he heads toward the stairs.  Harry lets out a little startled yelp and turns to glare at Louis.  

“You don’t play fair,” he grits out.

“Never said I would, darling,” Louis jokes.  He rubs his hands together and follows Harry down the stairs.  Today is going to be fun.

 

~~~~~

 

Hot.

Everything around Harry feels like he’s in a sauna, hot and humid.  A sheen of sweat has covered his skin for at least the past eight hours.  He just really needs some release.

When Louis suggested he wear a plug all day, Harry thought it’d be fun, maybe even easy — he liked a challenge.  Now, he’d like to turn back time and stop this from ever happening.  It’s not the being plugged up part that’s a problem, it’s the having a thousand errands to run, half of them with his mum, while having a blue jeweled plug stuffed up his bum.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay love?”  Harry’s mum asks, yet again.  This time, she places the back of her hand against his forehead, “You seem a bit feverish.”

“‘M fine, mum,” he steps away from her touch.  Right now, Louis is the only hands he wants on him.  They’ve been at the shops for the past couple of hours getting some last minute gifts — Harry curses his past self for waiting to finish Christmas shopping.  His limbs ache, and he’s pretty sure he’s got a couple of blisters on his feet.  Not to mention the whole plug up the arse thing.

It’s not like he can sit down.  Well, he can, but he’s pretty sure that his chances of coming are higher if he sits down, or bends over.  Standing is the most bearable, if bearable makes you want to rip your clothes off in the middle of the mall and put a hand on yourself.  Harry shakes his head at that mental image.

“Harry?”  His mum’s voice rips him out of his thoughts.

“What?”  Harry’s afraid of looking at his mum in the eye, afraid she’ll be able to tell what’s wrong with him.  Because sometimes mothers just know shit.  So he distracts himself with the rack of vests in front of him, mindlessly looking through them.

“I asked if you’re ready to head back.  We’ve still got to make dinner, remember?”

_ Shit. _

Harry told his mum for weeks that he wanted to make dinner for everyone the day before Christmas Eve, wanting to give his parents a break, especially since they were letting him and Louis stay for the holidays.  It was the least he could do, he’d insisted.  

Harry lets out a long sigh, “Yea, let’s go.”

When they get home, Harry immediately excuses himself, letting his mum know he’s going to put his bags away.  He takes the steps up two at a time, wincing as he goes,  and opens his childhood bedroom door in a frenzy, only to find Louis sitting on the bed waiting for him.  As if he’s already expecting Harry’s actions.

“Hey love, how did the shopping go?”  Louis asks nonchalantly, and all Harry wants to do is punch him in the face — and stick his dick inside his mouth to shut him up.

Harry drops the bags carelessly to the side, knowing there’s nothing breakable in there.  He falls to his knees in front of Louis, putting a hand on each of his fiance’s thighs.

“Please,” he begs.  He knows Louis knows exactly what it is that he wants.  The fucker smiles smugly.  

Louis takes his hand to caress Harry’s cheek, “Not yet, baby.”

Harry whines, high and needy.  He bites his bottom lip and looks at Louis, trying to will him to change his mind.  At this point he’s willing to do almost anything to get his release.  

Louis takes Harry’s hand as they both stand up and walk towards the bedroom door.  Louis checks to make sure it’s locked before he makes Harry stand facing it, with both palms against the door and his legs spread open.  Harry squeezes his eyes shut as tight as possible, he can feel himself starting to slip, but he can’t.

_ Not yet. _

“You’re so good for me,” Louis whispers hot against his ear, “I’m going to give you a little reward, but you still can’t come, okay?”

Harry nods.  At this point he’ll take  _ anything _ he can get.

“And you have to stay quiet.  You don’t want your parents to hear you, do you?”

Louis’ breath against Harry’s skin isn’t helping with how hot he’s feeling, but still he shakes his head.

“Okay good.”

Harry can hear Louis drop down to his knees, his hands fumbling with his  jeans, urging Harry to help as he pulls them down, leaving him bare and exposed, all for Louis, like an offering.  

Harry widens his legs again.  “So beautiful,” Louis breathes out, and Harry can feel him touching the plug.  

Harry needs to bite his lips as hard as he can to keep himself from screaming, because it’s so much.  And then he feels Louis’ tongue.  It’s wet, and hot, and just  _ everything _ .  He’s licking around the plug, until Louis slowly removes it, and his tongue takes its place.  Harry’s legs feel like jelly, and he wobbles a bit, but Louis holds him, grounds him to keep him from falling apart right then and there.  Because it’s all a lot, and not enough.  Harry’s breathing is rapid, his pulse is racing and sweat trickles from his forehead.  He finds the need to place his forehead against the door, because he can’t keep himself up.  

Little whines and moans are coming out of his throat, but they don’t make it past his lips, because he can’t.  He has to be quiet, for Louis.

Louis works his tongue in and out of his eager hole, and just when Harry feels that he might not be able to hold on much longer, he can feel the cool metal plug going back inside of him.  Harry can’t help but pout, and he bites his lip hard to hold in the cry of disappointment and frustration.  Louis kisses one bum cheek and bites the other before he helps him get his jeans back on.  He stands back up, and turns Harry around.  Louis’ pupils are blown, and his fringe is all over the place, but other than that he doesn’t show how affected he is.  Harry wishes he could say the same.

“You did so good,” he tells Harry, kissing him soft and sweet, “Not much longer until you get to come.  I promise you it will be worth it, baby.”

Harry lays his head on Louis’ shoulder, breathing him in — a mixture of sweat and coconuts — and hums.  

And it’s in that exact moment that Harry’s mum calls for him.

 

~~~~

 

They’re all sat around the dinner table, and Harry couldn’t be more relieved that it’s almost over because he hasn’t been able to have one single coherent thought all day.  He’d almost overcooked the meat, and nearly burnt the bread rolls he made from scratch.  All the while, Louis watched and just laughed at him, knowing full well why Harry’s been so out of it today.  Harry would throw him a glare here and there, but it only encouraged Louis to keep being a fucking tease.  Louis kept rubbing up against him in the close quarters of the kitchen, handling him and moving him as they prepared the meal together.  It had driven Harry positively mad. 

He hasn’t been able to really eat or actually enjoy the food, his mind too focused on...other things.  It doesn’t help that his stupid fiance keeps running his hand up and down his thigh, torturing him, while he tries to concentrate on the conversation they’re all having — catching up, talking about work and life.  

They talk about the wedding plans.  They’ve set a date, but haven’t actually started planning yet, so Harry’s mum is going on and on about who from the family he needs to have on the guest list.  There’s no one more excited about getting married than Harry, but right now, at this very moment, wedding planning is one of the last things on his mind.  But he just nods along to appease his mother, until finally,  _ finally _ dinner is over, and Harry and Louis excuse themselves to their room with Harry using the excuse that all the running around they did this morning wore him out.

And it’s like as soon as Harry enters the threshold of his childhood bedroom, everything goes hazy.  He can feel Louis’ firm hands on him, guiding him onto the bed, telling him that it’s okay, that he’ll take care of him.  He’s not coherent enough to respond; all he can do is hum in response.  He can feel Louis undressing him, carefully, with so much love, he just feels so taken care of.  He knows that he’s got nothing to worry about, that all his needs are about to be fulfilled, more than he ever dreamed.

And before he knows it, Louis is sat on the bed, back against the headboard, naked, lubing himself up, before he guides Harry to straddle him.  Gently removing the plug, Louis guides Harry down onto his dick. Slowly, with his hands gripping each side of Harry’s hips, Louis presses his cock inside. As soon as he bottoms out, Harry lets out a breath of relief, because _finally._ Harry’s hair moves in front of his face, matted with sweat, but he doesn’t even care.  He just wants to be here, with Louis, in his arms, forever.

“You did so well, my good boy,” Louis praises in his ear.  And Harry could fucking scream for him to move already, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to go anywhere — loves being filled up like this, loves these first few moments when it hurts a little but it’s all overshadowed by this closeness, this  _ intimacy _ , he feels with this man he loves so much.  Before he knows it, they’re finally moving in perfect harmony.  Louis grinds up as Harry grinds himself down.  An unending wave of pleasure trembles through his body, and Harry needs to hold on to something, so he wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, tight.

“You’re always so good for me,” Louis whispers hotly in his ear, as he continues to fuck into him.  Harry needs to keep himself from crying out, because he’s been needing his release all fucking day, so he bites down hard, onto Louis’ shoulder.  Louis buries his head between Harry’s shoulder and neck, to also muffle his scream.  The room is silent, except for the quiet sound of skin slapping against skin.

Harry is overwhelmed, with love, with everything.  And he doesn’t quite know how to describe it, how to show Louis how much he means to him.  It’s like trying to explain why the sky is blue, or why the grass is green.  He’ll never be able to show how much Louis means to him.

Harry’s body is now loose and pliant, Louis is pretty much doing most of the work.   He’s got his cheek resting against Louis’ shoulder, lips mere centimeters from Louis’ ear.  Harry’s sure Louis can hear him, his soft, muting ramblings of  _ love _ and  _ please _ and  _ god _ and  _ yes _ .  At this point he can’t even fucking help it because he just needs to express himself in any way that he can — his body, his words...none of it will ever be enough.

And it’s after one particular hard, deep thrust that Harry just can’t take it anymore, and he releases what he’s been wanting to express.  It comes out as a breathy moan.

“ _ Daddy _ .”

 

~~~~

  
  
Louis’ hips still as he’s buried to the hilt in the tight, tight heat of Harry’s body.   _ Daddy _ ?  Oh  _ fuck _ .  Louis’ brain short circuits, and he looks into the glazed eyes of the beautiful boy on top of him.  Harry is so far gone, so lost in lust and need and completely trusting in Louis to take care of him.  To give him everything he needs.  

Louis shifts and flips them quickly, efficiently.  Harry moans in surrender, his body pliant and yielding, going exactly where Louis wants him.  Louis stays inside of him and slows to a series of slow, deep grinds, undulating his hips so that he goes deep.  Harry arches his back and neck, exposing miles of  flushed, sweat soaked skin.  His tattoos show shadowy and dark in the moonlight streaming through the window and Louis just…

He just loves him desperately.  Wants to take care of him so, so much.

He whispers, hoarsely, against the tender skin of Harry’s neck, “That’s right baby.  I’ll take care of you.  Always.”

He wants to tell Harry he’ll be his Daddy.  He’ll be anything Harry wants because Harry is his baby.  His boy.  His  _ everything _ .  He’d give up everything for Harry.  All he has to do is ask him to.  

Harry scratches his nails down Louis’ back, bringing Louis back to the present — to the cool, dry room with the heat building between them like a furnace.  “Don’t come yet, baby,” Louis orders.  

Harry shakes underneath Louis, his long legs wrapped around Louis, keeping him deep.  “Lou...I…”

Louis shushes him, “I know you can wait, Haz.  Such a good boy for me.”  Louis runs his lips over Harry’s pulse point and bites lightly, sucking the skin into his mouth.  He feels Harry constrict around his cock and it nearly blinds him for a moment.  “I’m gonna come first.  And then I think I’ll just... _ play _ with you for awhile, yeah?”

Harry whines, loud and wanton.  And to Louis, it’s like the best kind of music ever.  But.  They are at Harry’s mum’s house.  And — Louis is nothing if not polite.  He doesn’t want to draw attention to their... _ activities _ .  Harry would kill him for it tomorrow.  He pulls out slowly, regretting it immediately.  Harry’s body is warm and wet and like a second home and it  _ kills _ him to leave it.  Louis anticipated this, though, and he grabs the scarf that he put on the nightstand for this very thing.

“Open.”  Louis bunches the material and rubs it against Harry’s spit slick mouth.  Harry complies.  Immediately.  Beautiful.

Louis stuffs Harry’s mouth full and hovers over him, his wet cock bobbing up and down on Harry’s sculpted torso.  God.  He needs to come.  

Kneeling over Harry’s tummy, straddling him so his bum slides over Harry’s cock, Louis starts stripping his nearly painfully hard erection.  Harry groans and starts humping up against Louis’ arse.  Every so often, Harry’s wet cock slides against Louis’ hole and that’s.   _ Holy shit. _  That’s a lot.  

“Baby.  Look so good — ah — “  Louis grunts as his hand flies over his dick.  Harry’s hands grip his thighs, leaving white indentations.  There are tears gathering in the corners of Harry’s big green eyes. and his hips are jerking erratically now.  Louis thinks for a moment they should come at the same time.  Wants to feel Harry’s release all over his hole, dripping down his crack, leaking down the inside of his thighs.  “Baby.  You can come,” Louis demands, one last time, as he sits squarely on Harry’s cock.  He feels it twitch in his crack, and then they are both coming.

Louis paints Harry’s torso with his come.  And it feels so good.  Using Harry like this and knowing Harry likes it.   _ Wants _ it.  He feels Harry shake underneath him, sees the way his face contorts in such a gorgeous way as he falls apart.  And it’s like nothing else on earth.  

After a few minutes of pure ecstasy, Louis notices how hard Harry is breathing.  He knows this has been a lot for him — an entire day of keeping himself in check, waiting for Louis to take over, to take care of him.  To let go.

Louis lays down on top of his fiance and kisses along his jawline, over the bridge of his nose and down his neck.  He breathes harshly as he tells Harry how good he was, how perfect he is.  How much he loves him.  Harry’s tummy jumps with each lick, each bruising pass of Louis’ tongue and teeth.  His cock is  _ still _ impossibly hard.  Harder than Louis thinks he’s ever seen it.  Especially after coming once already.  Actually...Louis feels down between his own legs and  _ Christ _ .  He’s still remarkably hard too.  It must have something to do with the edging.  The waiting all day.  The feeling of having this secret between them — knowing that Harry was all plugged up, waiting for Louis to fuck him senseless all day…

It’s like nothing they’ve ever done before.  Louis doesn’t want it to end.

Suddenly, Louis is filled with the urge to have Harry fuck him.  To ride Harry until they both come again.  He wants that beautiful, hard cock inside of him.  Now.

“Baby,” Louis says brokenly, because now that he’s realized what he wants, what he means to do, he can’t contain the raw emotion flooding his voice.  He’s going to let Harry fuck him. “Gonna open myself up for you, ok?”

Harry whines underneath him, his whole body trembling.  He looks at Louis with wide, questioning eyes — a moment of clarity passing over his face.  “Gonna ride you, ok?  Then you can come, again baby.  You’ve been so good for me.  So good.”

Harry nods his head enthusiastically.  It’s rare for Louis to bottom when they have sex, even rarer when Harry’s under like this.  But something about tonight — about the frantic desperation on Harry’s face and the way his thick cock feels slipping between his dripping wet cheeks makes Louis want this.  He wants to see Harry lose complete control while he’s on top of him, riding him through what he hopes will be an intense second orgasm.  

Louis can’t believe Harry’s made it this far.  He’s a far better man than Louis, that’s for sure.  Louis would have soaked his pants within the first hour of wearing that damn plug, and here’s Harry, hours later and still holding on — still willing to do whatever Louis wants.  However he wants it.  Louis thinks that maybe the hottest part of this whole night is watching Harry wait for Louis to tell him when to come.  They’ve done this before a few times.  But tonight is different.  It’s  _ more _ somehow.  It’s been all fucking day, for Christ’s sake.  And that’s.  A lot.  Louis’ cock starts fattening up again.  It never really had a chance to go soft.

Louis works himself over with three fingers, twisting them quickly inside of him — just working to get the sensitive, tight tissue loose, open, to take Harry.  Harry’s a lot to take.  And no matter how long they work to open Louis it’s always...a lot.  

Louis hears the wet squelching of lube, probably too much lube given the copious amount of come that was already there, and he can feel Harry twitching alongside him.  He’s turned his backside to Harry, and Harry has propped himself up a bit on some pillows for a better view.  He knows, during regular sex, when they aren’t playing, that Harry loves watching Louis get ready to take him.   _ Loves it. _  So — in his heightened state of arousal this must be absolutely  _ wrecking _ him.  He turns to look over his shoulder and half of Harry’s face is in shadow, but what he can see steals his breath.  Harry is crying —  _ crying _ — over something.  

Harry is crying.

Louis turns quickly, pulling his fingers out hastily, wiping them on the sheets, and he races up to Harry’s face.  “Baby, what is it?  What?”  He pulls the gag from Harry’s mouth and waits for Harry to speak.  He runs his hands through Harry’s hair, kissing his cheeks and trying to help him calm down.  

Harry sobs and clings to Louis, and Louis worries instantly that he’s pushed him too far.  Damn it.  Too much.  

Finally, Harry is able to speak, “Just — love you.  So,” he hiccups, “so much.”

Louis swears his heart expands visibly inside his chest, leaking into Harry’s heaving chest, joining with his heart and soaring through the stratosphere.  He’s just so in love and cannot fucking believe his good fortune.  

Louis kisses Harry’s temple and whispers, “Love you too.”  He kisses Harry softly and soon it turns heated, demanding.  

Within seconds, Harry pulls away and his eyes are glassy as he whispers, “Come on, Lou,” he hesitates, biting his lip for a moment.  He looks unsure as he says, “ _ Daddy _ .”  Louis’ cock leaks a little at the word.   _ That _ word.  Again.  “Need you.”

Louis feels desire shoot through him so he decides to give Harry, his baby, exactly what he needs.  He angles himself and reaches back to take Harry’s dick in his hand.  Harry breathes into his mouth and Louis swallows it all like an elixir.  They immediately respond to each other, falling into the familiar and the dangerous all at the same time.  Every time is like the first time.  But with the comfort of knowing it will always be just... _ them _ .  

Harry’s big.  Like, really big.  Louis exhales as he sinks down slowly.  He holds himself up with shaky hands flat on Harry’s sweaty chest.  “Don’t — don’t come yet, Haz.”  His voice is shaky, and high, but still demanding.  In control.  He knows it won’t take long.  For either of them.  

Harry’s face is a vast, beautiful canvas.  He looks so trusting, so, open.  His mouth hangs ajar, and his lips are bright and shiny in the dark light.  Louis sees how his eyes have gone so, so hazy — he’s slipping under again.  When Louis uses  _ that _ voice, it’s like a switch gets flipped and Harry just... _ obeys _ .

Once he’s fully seated, Louis lets out another long, shaky breath.  It hurts.  But it feels so good.  Feels like he’s being split in two, but there is a constant pressure against his spot and it’s making sparks of bright hot pleasure crackle up and down his spine.  He gives an experimental swivel of his hips, rotating them in just the right way.  And.   _ Oh _ .  That’s it.  

Leaning forward, Louis captures Harry’s mouth with his own.  He keeps moving his hips in exactly the right way.  The way that makes him see stars — and bright blasts of color.  Red, purple, blue and green flash like fireworks in his brain.  And it is good.  So, so good.  Louis’ mouth demands  _ things _ from Harry.  His kiss is insistent.  Impatient.  And Harry tastes like urgency and need and pure, unadulterated  _ sex _ .  Louis absently thinks it might be pheromones or something.  Whatever it is, it makes Louis whine into Harry’s mouth as he starts sliding up and down on Harry’s cock, his own hard length trapped between their bellies, the come from earlier, mixed with their combined sweat making everything wet and hot and nearly feral with the pressing need of it all.  

Harry stays still, small moans flying from his mouth like stars shooting through the night sky.  Constant.  Shimmery.  Like magic.  And Louis moves, holding a hand over Harry’s mouth to quiet him, as he controls the pace, uses Harry and his beautiful cock in the best possible way.  It feels like climbing a mountain, but also — it feels like  _ pulling _ Harry up the mountain.  Bringing him right along with him.  He wants Harry to reach the top first.  

At the first inkling of his release, the scorching sparks in his belly threatening to combust into full blown fire, Louis pulls away from Harry’s mouth and, looking into his eyes, commands, “Baby, come.   _ Come _ .”

Harry fucks up into Louis hard and so, so deep and then Louis can  _ feel _ it.  Can feel the hot come filling him up, the sensation of Harry  _ inside him _ , releasing inside of him, lighting him up  from the inside out.  And then  _ he’s _ coming again, the orgasm tearing through his body like wildfire, making him tremble with the sheer force of it.  Harry moans, deep and loud, and Louis swears he feels it coil around him and it covers him in warmth and comfort — Harry’s sex sounds are the best kind of sounds in the world.  

Harry is spent.  He lays there beneath Louis, breathing deep and hard and he’s so out of it, Louis feels like if he moved off of him right now he’d fly right out the window.  They lay like that for a long time.  Louis isn’t sure how long.  But finally, little by little, Harry is back with him, running tired hands over his back and squirming a little.  

Louis shifts so that Harry slips out of him and they both wince and moan a little.  Louis drops to Harry’s side.  Harry speaks first, “That was…”

Louis revels in the cool air washing over their sweat sticky skin.  He hears the heater kick in and can hear the sound of a siren in the distance.  “Hm?”

“ _ Unreal _ .”  Harry finishes.  

Louis nods his head in agreement.  “Yeah.  Really was.”

They are quiet for a for a few more moments.  Louis pinches Harry’s side as he hobbles off the bed to get them some wet flannels to clean up.  “You get to tell your mum what all the racket was, though.  In the morning.”

Stepping into the dark en suite, he hears Harry groan, “Ah  _ fuck _ .”

“Hm.  Again?  Hazza.  You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

A pillow hits him in the head as he makes his way back through the darkened room.  “See if you think I’m so little tomorrow when you are waddling around like a duck.”

Louis winces as the ache in his bum accentuates Harry’s teasing words. His fiance may have a point.

  
~~~~

 

On Christmas day, Harry and Louis return to their flat after having a lovely Christmas brunch with both sides of their families.  It was a great trip, but it’s always nice to be home, so that they can have their own privacy.

“Gifts?”  Harry asks excitedly, after they’ve settled in.  He joins Louis on the sofa, handing him a glass of wine.  

Louis is sitting on the couch, with his gift sitting in front of him, and a warm smile on his face.  There’s a big box wrapped in white and red paper and a large golden bow placed neatly in the middle of it.  Harry places the wine glasses on the coffee table and walks over to grab his gift for Louis from under the Christmas tree before joining him on the couch, facing him.

“Yes!  For God’s sake, I could hardly wait to get home so I could see what you got me!” Louis teases.  “You go first.”

Harry slaps at him playfully and hands Louis the thin box that’s wrapped in red and green paper with little candy canes on it.  It takes Louis seconds to rip it open, unwrapping the box and revealing two tickets to see Green Day next month.

“Oh my God!”  Louis jumps from where he was sat to climb on Harry’s lap and wraps his arms around him, kissing him all over his lips, cheeks and forehead.  “Thank you so much baby.”

Harry giggles at Louis’ reaction because it’s not like Louis has been hinting at wanting to attend the concert for the past six months or anything.  But he returns every kiss and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, “Anything for you, love.”

After settling down Louis returns to his spot on the couch, “Okay, my turn,” he says,  clapping his hands together, picking up Harry's present. In those few seconds where Louis holds the big box, he looks so cute and small , making Harry feel so fond.  He still can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have this man.  

Louis places the box in front of Harry and looks at him excitedly, “Open it.”

Harry chuckles at Louis’ eagerness, and he takes his time, because he doesn’t want to ruin the paper in the process, but Louis gets impatient, and rips up the rest of the paper for him.  When Harry opens the box, he’s not sure what to focus on first.  There’s a pack of oil pastels he’s been wanting to get for the longest time, a new sketch book, and the book on Banksy he’s been dying to get his hands on.  Harry takes each of these items out, one by one, marvelling at each of them, just so happy with what Louis’ gotten him.  After taking them out of the box, Harry notices there’s still one item left at the bottom, so he takes it and looks at the title.

_ The Diary of a Submissive _

Interesting.  Harry turns the book over to read the summary of the book and  _ oh _ .  It’s a book that is supposed to give more insight into what it means to be a submissive, based on the author’s experiences.  Harry’s cheeks heat up at the thought of Louis finding this book  _ for him. _

“Where did you find this?”  Harry can’t help but sound awestruck that Louis did this for him.  

Louis looks a bit bashful, as his cheeks blush a light rosy pink, “Amazon,” he says smiling, “I did a bit of research, and sort of stumbled on that.  Thought it might interest you.”

Harry’s heart swells with so much love, because this is a really beautiful and thoughtful sentiment.  Just when Harry doesn’t think he could love Louis any more, he comes and does things like this that just make him feel so lucky to have him.  His eyes get a little misty, with the overwhelming feeling of love that he has for this amazing person, and he wipes one of the tears that managed to get out.  Harry moves the gift box and stuff out of the way so that he can embrace Louis.  He nuzzles his nose into Louis’ hair, just breathing him in.

“Thank you,” he breathes out.  And he isn’t just thanking Louis for the book, but for  _ everything _ .  For being the best boyfriend, the best lover, the best partner — the best friend —  Harry could ever dream of having.  Even now, when Harry himself is discovering this new side of himself that he’s still struggling to figure out, Louis is there along with him to help him.  And it just feels like so much.  

He feels so loved and so taken care of, and Louis never lets him forget it, instead continues to reassure him with his actions.  The fact that Louis is so open to exploring this realm with Harry just means so, so much to him.  It makes Harry realize that he doesn’t need to do his own research alone, that he can share these things with Louis, and be more vocal about it.  It’s like Louis has opened the door and is taking Harry’s hand so that they can walk through the threshold together, giving Harry the confidence he needs to voice his wants and needs.

 

~~~~

 

“Flogging?”

 

“Mmm, maybe.  Put a question mark next to that one.”

 

“Okay, what about...golden showers?”

 

“Eww no thank you.”

 

“Thank God...tickle torture?”

 

“Nah, not really into that.”

 

Harry and Louis are in bed, Louis with the laptop, and they’re going through a list of things they want to try, things they might want to try, and things that they definitely don’t want to try, ever.  Harry’s head is laying on Louis’ shoulder as Louis lists off different types of plays, l istening to Harry's thoughts on what he'd like to try and what is definitely not up for discussion .

“What about wax play?”  Louis tilts his head to look at Harry.  Harry lifts his head to get a better view of the description of what that entails.  The description includes a picture of someone’s body covered in a colorful pattern of wax all over their torso--black, red, and blue.  Harry quirks his eyebrow in interest.  

“Yea, I’d like to try that,” Harry tells him.  His skin tingles just thinking about it.  

“What about roleplay?”

Harry bites his lip, just thinking about the possibilities, “Mm, yea, definitely put that on the list.”

 

~~~~

 

Ever since Louis gifted him that book, it’s been like opening pandora’s box.   Harry wants to learn all he can about being a submissive.  He seems to be more interested in the things that might be considered more simple, or less extreme. But to Harry it’s what he wants, what he needs, and he wants to learn more

Which is why, one Saturday morning, Harry comes bounding into the flat, flushed and more excited than a kid at Christmas.  Louis puts down the comic he was reading and says, “What’s got you so excited Hazza?”

“Lou!  I know what we are doing tomorrow.”

“Um...I’m pretty sure I know too.  We are sleeping in and then maybe having a nice leisurely shag after which you are making be brekkie.”  Louis looks quite pleased with himself.  

“Ha, ha,” Harry says, not at all impressed.  “No.  We are going to a munch.”

Louis stares at the love of his life with a look of complete confusion.  “A?  A what?”

“A munch.”  Harry says, as if it explains the word, the concept completely.  

“Right…” Louis drags the word out, “Heard that.  Still don’t know what it means.”

Harry giggles and climbs into Louis’ lap.  “You’re so cute.”

“I know you are but what am I?”  Honestly, he’s so impossible, Harry thinks to himself.  

Harry kisses across the bridge of Louis’ nose.  “I’m serious…” he whines.

“Sorry, sorry.  So.  A munch.   Is it like brunch with just men or something?”  

Harry laughs, “No — it’s like a...social gathering for people who are involved or interested in BDSM and I thought it might be interesting to see what it was about, maybe even get some perspective?”

Louis hesitates, and Harry feels a sense of panic rising in his chest.  Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up.  Maybe it’s weird that he wants to meet other people like him.

It’s like Louis senses this--he’s always so attuned to Harry.  “Babe.  I think that’s a great idea.  Just — it’s not going to be like a big orgy or something is it?”

Harry waggles his eyebrows.  “That’s for me to know…”

Louis flips them over quickly, driving a loud squeal from Harry effectively pinned underneath him.  “I’m not good with sharing,” he growls.  

And then proceeds to show Harry just how possessive he can be.  

 

~~~~

 

“Yeah, so…”  Harry flops on the couch, a takeout coffee cup clutched in his hands.  

Louis joins him, matching cup in a similar position  “Yeah,”  he says slowly.  

They sit in complete silence for a moment before Harry starts giggling.  Pretty soon Louis is laughing and eventually they are in hysterics, a mess of limbs and aching bellies and wide goofy grins.  Louis waits for Harry to calm down before he looks at him suggestively, “We have a dungeon if you boys ever wanna….you know...get freaky with us.”  He says it in this dorky, deep voice that is just a parody of the guy they just left behind at the cafe, where the munch had been held.

“Oh God,” Harry groans, “and the way his boyfriend looked at you?”

“Hey!” Louis says in mock hurt, “I happen to be grade A class one meat over here.”

Harry grins, “That you are.”

“No.  But honestly, H.  What did you think of it?”

“Well…” Harry considers the question, grin smoothing out over his handsome face, “I don’t know if it was necessarily for me, you know?  Seemed like a lot of those guys were interested in hooking up and that’s...not really us, right?”

Louis folds his legs underneath himself and turns toward Harry.  He knows he has to be careful here, he’s treading water — doesn’t want to hurt Harry’s feelings and wants him to feel like he can open up to him...can more fully explore this part of him, with Louis.  “No...I don’t think so,” he finally replies, “I don’t really want to get into that whole...I dunno, swingers scene?”

Harry laughs and shakes his head, “What are we like in our fifties?  Swingers, Lou?”

Louis tries his best to look affronted.  “You know what I mean.  I think that’s ok for some people, but it’s not something I want.  I just want you.”  Louis feels a little obsessive about it, but there is no way in hell he could ever see someone else put their hands on Harry like that.  It would kill him.  And probably put him in jail.  

“But…” Harry continues, “I don’t think I need to like talk to other people about what we are into?  I just…”

Louis scooches closer to Harry and pulls him closer.  “Go ahead, babe.  Tell me.”

“It was nice to see how many other people are into what we’re into, you know?”  Harry says, voice timid and slower than usual.  “Even though, like, some of those guys are into more extreme stuff —  _ scenes _ — I feel...I dunno... more at ease?  Like, what I want and what I need isn’t too out there?”

Louis nods his head and runs his hands over Harry’s back, his arms and in his hair.  “Yeah...I know.  I know what you mean.  I definitely don’t feel weird about wanting to be like that with you.  Like...in charge or whatever.”

“Yeah?”  Harry sounds interested, intrigued.  Louis thinks that maybe if he tells Harry what he feels when they play — another word they’ve been using more and more — that maybe it will be easier for Harry to accept, to be ok, with what he wants.  

“Yeah.  For sure.  I get such a rush knowing you want me to do those things to you and that  you...wanna do stuff for me like that when you’re...under.  It makes me feel good to know you trust me like that.  That you want me to take care of you.”

Harry turns in his arms and presses his warm palms to Louis’ cheeks.  He kisses him, full and hard, murmuring against his lips, “I love you.  So fucking much.”  His voice is fierce and filled with emotion.  And Louis wants to drown in it — it’s so big, so warm and comforting.  It’s everything.  

Louis breaks the kiss and pulls back so he can look into Harry’s deep green eyes.  “Yeah...and…”  He licks over Harry’s bottom lip, making Harry pant and drop his mouth open again.  “It kinda turns me on.”

Harry groans and grabs Louis again, sending a shockwave through his midsection.  “Me too,” he says, low, gravelly.  And that’s pretty much the end of their discussion.

  
  


~~~~

  
  


It starts out just like any other Friday night.  They’ve decided to stay in, order pizza and catch up on some shows they like to watch.  Harry’s lit some candles around the living room and Louis’ mixed them a couple of drinks with a nice gin he was given from his boss at Christmas.  They are cozy on the couch and Louis feels a lovely sense of fuzzy peace descend over him.  He’s so happy right now.  And sleepy.  A few more sips of this drink, he thinks, and he might very well call it a night.  

“Hey,” Harry’s low voice tumbles over him like warm bath water.

“Hm?”  It’s a real effort to keep eyes open right now.

“Remember the list?”

Louis opens one eye because he’s not really sure what Harry means.  The list?  The grocery list?  The list of pros and cons to owning a home versus renting?  The list about which are better, the original Star Wars movies or the new ones?  Harry makes a lot of lists.  “List?”

Harry smiles, soft and wide.  “The list...with the things we want to try?  You know... _ the list _ .”

Louis’ pulse jumps.  The List.  Right.   _ That _ list.  

“Yeah?”  He squeaks and then clears his throat.  He’s manly, after all.  “Yeah.  The list.  What of it?”

“Was thinking…”  Harry tucks a long slender foot under Louis’ bum, a coy smile dancing across his face, “ was thinking maybe we can, um...try one of them?  Like.  Tonight?”

Tonight?   _ Tonight _ .  

Louis is definitely waking up.  At least certain parts of him are.

“Sure, I mean.  Yeah.  If you’re...ah...up for it?”

“ _ Up for it. _  That’s an...interesting choice of words.”  Harry pauses and watches Louis as he sits up straighter on his end of the couch.  He slowly unfolds himself and crawls over to Louis, stretching across him like a lazy housecat.  “I’m always up for it’.”  For emphasis he grinds his hips down on Louis’, his cock already mostly full.

Well.  That’s a surprise.  

Louis reaches up and pulls Harry down by the back of his neck, fingers finding their way into his curls.  He brings their lips together and licks the taste of oregano and gin from Harry’s lush mouth.  Harry moans slightly and drops more of his weight on Louis, pressing their bodies together.  Louis feels like he can breathe again, the sensation of Harry’s skin on his like pumping his lungs full of sweet, clean oxygen.

As their tongues slide together, the slick feeling of it taking over Louis’ senses, Louis finds a way to flip them so that Harry is pinned underneath him.  Harry grins like a fool and pulls Louis down.  Louis goes easily, loving nothing more than the feeling of his boy beneath him.  They kiss lazily, unhurried, as if they have nothing but time.  Which...they do.  It’s Friday night, an entire weekend stretching out before them — no real commitments or responsibilities.  Louis revels in times like this, when they can just be together.  With each other, alone, blocking the rest of the world out.  

Louis bites down gently on Harry’s full bottom lip, swallowing the little cry Harry emits.  He slips a thigh between Harry’s legs and starts to rock into him.  Their mouths speak volumes — the wet perfect slide of tongues and lips, teeth scraping and the chemistry of their bodies mingling to become one.  Louis lets his lips traverse the angular slope of Harry’s jaw, and he squeezes Harry’s hips.  

“Babe?  What do you want?”

Harry arches delightfully, again, almost feline, and responds quickly, “Was thinking...maybe...wax?  Like.  You could pour some on me and like.  Maybe fuck me?”

Louis’ brain short circuits, because, yeah.  He can very much be on board with that.  He is suddenly very, very awake.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  I...Yeah.”  Very suave.

Harry giggles and squeezes Louis’ bum.  “Well come on then.  Let me up, Mr. Eloquence.  I’ll grab some water and you grab the candles, yeah?”

Louis falls all over himself trying to get off of Harry.  It’s made excessively difficult with Harry’s long limbs and the way his shirt hangs open obscenely, just begging for Louis’ mouth to lick and bite at the acres of exposed skin.  But, finally, he manages.  

It’s a few short moments and they are meeting each other in the bedroom.  Louis has blown out all of the other candles in the living room, save for the two small votive sized ones that he clutches in his hands. The glass is warm, but not too hot under Louis’ fingertips.  The soft vanilla scent fills the room, and the amber glow is pretty as the light refracts off of the cream colored walls and softens the hard angles of the furniture.  Harry is down to his boxers and takes the candles from Louis, placing them gently on the bedside table.  He starts kissing down Louis’ neck and divests him of his jumper and trousers, pulling his boxer briefs off slowly as well.  He slides back up Louis’ body and peppers his hips, chest, and shoulders with smooth wet kisses.

“Can’t wait to have you inside me,” he purrs in Louis’ ear.

Louis can’t seem to catch up.  He hears the words, feels his fiance’s body on his but sometimes, in moments like this, he can hardly believe his good fortune.  Maybe it's because he’s sleepy or maybe it's the lunar cycle or something but Louis is inundated with feelings of gratitude and a near helpless feeling of awe.  It’s just that Harry is so much sometimes and he’s his, all his.  And it nearly drives Louis out of his mind.

“Lie down babe,” Louis whispers, ushering Harry to the soft, fluffy duvet.  Slowly, leaving lingering kisses and the hot press of fingers on cool skin, Louis takes off the rest of Harry’s clothing.  “Gonna make you feel good, yeah?”

Harry nods his head eagerly, a sense of bliss sliding over his features.  He’s so pretty, Louis thinks, eyes tearing up at the sight of him.  In candlelight, Harry looks like a painting.  Like art.  

Louis straddles his boy and brings their lips together, the heat building as they kiss and explore.  Louis marvels at the inexplicable way that their bodies always feel new, feel like uncharted territory when they move like this.  The unhurried sleepiness of the lazy afternoon gives way to something more feral, more desperate, as they start to build friction and heat between them.  

“Put your hands up,” Louis orders gently.  Harry moves his arms up over his head immediately, eyes wide and trusting, the spring green dark and sparking in the dim light.  “Good boy, precious boy,” Louis murmurs, watching Harry grasp the slats of their headboard.  “Do I need to tie you up?  Or can you be good and just hold on to the bed?”

Harry looks like he’s going under, the pretty haze in his eyes and soft pink glow high on his cheeks giving it away.  “Can be good for you,” he murmurs, rocking up so that their cocks slide together.

And then, it’s like something switches inside Louis.  He knows he needs to take on his role.  A surge of heat ripples through his groin at the thought of it

Louis arches a brow at him.  “That’s not very good is it?  That’s greedy.  And what do I say about being greedy?”

Harry swallows visibly, his cock leaping at Louis’ words, at the command in his voice.   Sometimes Louis can’t believe the way Harry responds to him, to just his voice.  It makes him want to do it more, do it better.  “That I’ll be punished.”

“Do you want to be punished?”

“N-no.  I...I’m a good boy.”  Harry’s voice has gone deep and husky, filled with desire and a meek sort of need.  The eagerness in his voice is undeniable.  It makes Louis weak in the knees.  Makes him want to fuck Harry into next week.  He loves him so much.  He’s so turned on because Harry — Harry trusts him, needs him to take care of him like this.  It ignites some deeper part of Louis that needs to take care of other people, to take care of Harry.  

“Good boy.  Now — “ Louis reaches for a candle.  “Use your word if this is…”  Louis searches Harry’s face, watching for any signs of trepidation.  Finding none he continues, “too much, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Harry breathes out, reedy and shaky.  And so, so needy.

Louis holds the burning candle about four inches over Harry’s sternum, dipping his first finger into the melted pool of wax.  Judging the temperature as safe as wax could be (what the fuck?  He doesn’t know), he angles the wick toward one of Harry’s nipples and slowly tips the column of wax, watching as it drips, thin and golden, over the puffy surface of Harry’s skin.

“Aah!”  Harry arches his back and bites his lip, groaning.  Louis thinks it’s good.  At least it sounds like it.

“Yeah?  Again?”  

Harry opens his eyes and looks like he’s having trouble focusing.  “Again.”

Louis nods his head once, shifts so that Harry’s cock slips between his cheeks.  The slide of his thickness is welcome and maddening all at once.  Louis wants him to fill him up and make him sore for weeks.  But that’s not what tonight is about. Tonight is for Harry.  Harry needs him to make him fly, to slip into that space where the nothingness keeps him afloat and where Harry doesn’t need to think, to do anything.  Just feel.  Just be.  

Louis knows that this has been a long hard week for Harry at work.  He’s had some issues with a couple of students and the ever present pressure of testing for the Arts — the Arts, for God’s sake, he had complained earlier in the week — along with some crappy weather keeping him from running outdoors...and well, Harry’s wound up.  Louis’ surprised he didn’t see it coming, actually.  

The second pour of wax is a bit smokier, the wick eating into the wax unevenly so that chalky black smoke ekes out into the space between them.  The heat must still feel good to Harry because he arches into it and moans louder this time.  However, the slight buck of the hips makes Louis lose his balance, sending his arm jerking forward a few inches.  The unexpected movement makes the remaining basin of hot wax slosh out.  

Louis watches in horror as the droplets careen toward Harry’s wild hair, fanned out across the pillow.  Several long lines of wax tangle in the curls and begin to harden immediately.  “Ah fuck, Haz.  Lay…” Louis lurches and drops the candle in its holder on the nightstand, the flame extinguishing with a sputter.  “Lay still.”

Harry moans, this time not sounding entirely pleasant.  “Wha — Louis?”

Louis accidentally bumps the table too hard, making the other candle tilt precariously and threaten to fall.  He manages to grab it, but he overcorrects so that it shakes dangerously, splashing wax across his forearm and then slashing it in thick, waxy yellow stripes across Harry’s chest.  

“Fuck!  Louis!”  Harry yelps, clearly not a sound of pleasure, and jerks away.  His jerking upsets Louis, making him nearly drop the candle.  He doesn’t.  Instead, he reaches out with his other hand to steady it, burning the palm of his other hand in the process.  

“Goddamn it!”  Now Louis is jumping around, cradling his burnt hand.  

Harry sits up and scurries to the end of the bed, grabbing Louis’ hand.  Once he gets a good look at it he’s up and moving quickly to the kitchen.  He gets ice and a washcloth and returns to the bedroom, immediately taking over, pressing a cool cloth  to Louis’ burn and making sure that the candles are out and that the threat of imminent danger is diminished.  He turns on the overhead light and sits on the floor next to Louis, cradling his hand in his two larger ones.  

“Honey,” Harry purrs.

Louis whines and drops his head to Harry’s broad shoulder, feeling dismayed and riddled with adrenaline.  And not the good kind.  “Sorry.”

Harry peppers Louis’ face with kisses and shushes him, hugging him close.  Louis feels awful.  Feels like a complete failure at the art of wax seduction.  Harry keeps shushing him at every attempt to apologize, eventually calming Louis and making him feel like less of a loser.  After a few minutes, he looks up at the carnage that is their bedroom.

There is wax everywhere.  It is matted in Harry’s hair and has left scalding marks all over his chest and stomach.  The sheets are singed and, for God’s sake, there is even wax dried mid-drip on the butter yellow walls.  It looks like a candle threw up in here, and Louis is mortified.  The final straw is when he looks up into Harry’s flushed face and sees wax drying in his thickly arched eyebrows.  

Louis does the only thing one can do when faced with a hot wax candle malfunction.  

He laughs.  

Soon he is crying from laughter and Harry joins him, the two of them rolling around on the floor, naked and sticky, painful burns blistering and more in love than they’ve ever been.  It’s ludicrous, really.

After a long while, Harry inhales deeply and pulls Louis off the ground.  They’ve decided to shower and google “removing hot wax from human hair”.  Harry leans down to kiss Louis before sauntering off to the living room to get one of their laptops.  “Um.  So.  I think we can cross that one off the list?”

Louis pauses, and twirls Harry’s stiff hair between his fingers.  “Yeah.  I think so.  Think I…”  He kisses Harry, licking across the bow of his bottom lip, smiling into it as Harry rubs his nose against his.  “Think I could, uh...forego that much excitement for awhile.”  

Harry agrees, thankfully, and Louis grins.  After putting the candles away neatly on the shelf and the cloth in the laundry basket, Louis joins Harry in the shower.  As he drops to his knees to drive away the memory of wax gone wrong, Louis finds himself thinking, for probably the one hundredth time, that he loves Harry and he loves this adventure that they’re on.  And if there’s one thing he’s eternally grateful for it’s the fact they they will always have this, each other, and be able to come back to one another after whatever mishaps life may bring them.  

Even the BDSM kind.


	4. Year Five: Mine

Before they know it, it’s Harry and Louis’ one year wedding anniversary, and Harry can’t believe it’s only been a year, because with everything, it feels like they’ve been together for a lot longer than that. 

The past year has been a whirlwind. 

They’d set their wedding date for after Louis was to complete graduate school. After grad school, Louis was promoted at his job, taking in a hefty salary raise, which gave them the opportunity to finally be able to purchase their own home. It’s a modest, three bedroom home, with two bathrooms and a beautiful garden. They also rescued a precious German shepherd named Bailey, who’d been welcomed into the family with open arms, and Harry and Louis don’t know what they’d do without him. Bailey has wiggled their way into their home and hearts.

Their wedding was wonderful, being able to declare their love for each other in front of their closest friends and family, exchanging their vows, promising to love each other for all eternity. It was a beautiful ceremony if Harry does say so himself, even with the minor things that might not have gone how they’d planned, but he can’t be arsed to even remember what those things were now. All he knows is that he’s in bed cuddled next to his husband. A lot of times, Harry catches himself staring at his ring finger, his simple silver wedding band, staring back at him, and he just gets butterflies. Because to this day thinking about Louis still makes him feel like the first time they met, like a right mush with butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Harry’s eyes trail down his finger to his wrist, where an inked anchor decorates it, and he can’t help but smile. On their honeymoon to Paris they’d gone and inked their safewords onto their skin — Harry getting the anchor, and Louis the rope and when they hold hands they are a rope and anchor, intertwined. The symbols are inked into their skin as a permanent reminder not only of their roles when they play, but also a sign of how much they mean to each other.

“Good morning, love,” Louis’ raspy voice shakes Harry out of his thoughts, and Harry turns his head to look at his husband. Louis’ fringe — which he’s been growing out -- is in disarray, some of it falling in front of his eyes, and he looks so fucking sexy Harry could just eat him up right here, right now.

Harry flips over on top of Louis to straddle him, he can feel Louis’ morning wood against his bum as he leans over to kiss his husband on the lips, soft and gentle, morning breath be damned.

“Good morning. Happy anniversary baby,” he whispers as if he’s telling Louis a secret. 

Louis’ eyes fucking crinkle, and he’s just so breathtaking, Harry needs a moment to catch his breath. Louis grabs him by his hips, his fingers indenting his love handles.

“Happy anniversary,” Louis leans up to kiss him again, this time with tongue, making it more needy, more dirty, eliciting a groan out of Harry. Louis’ hands grab a hold of Harry’s hair — trimmed just the other day — but still long enough to pull on it the way that drives Harry insane. Harry whines into Louis’ mouth, making the smaller man bite Harry’s bottom lip in return. Louis’ hands travel from Harry’s hips down to his bum, taking his cheeks into handfuls, making Harry buck into Louis’ crotch in response.

“Fuck,” Harry moans.

Before they can go any further though, Louis stops them, squeezing Harry’s hips to stop his movements, making Harry whine in frustration in the process.

“Wait,” Louis commands. He reaches over to the bedside table, and opens the drawer, pulling out a small box. It’s small and squared, like the type that holds bracelets but a little bigger than that. Louis places the box on his chest in front of Harry, “Open your anniversary gift first.”

Louis’ eyes are so warm and sparkly, like he wants to give Harry the entire world, and it just warms Harry’s heart, the way Louis always looks at him, with so much love and adoration.

“Okay,” Harry relents, taking the box in his hands. 

He’d also bought Louis a gift, but he’ll wait to give it to him, seeing as how Louis is looking at him expectantly, as if willing Harry to get on with it and open the box already. He didn’t even wrap it or tape it, making it very easy for him to see what it is. When Louis removes the lid, his breath hitches, and his mouth goes dry. 

“Louis...” He croaks out. 

Harry runs his fingers through the leather collar that’s in the box. It’s black, with a silver hoop. He takes it with gentle fingers, bringing it closer for inspection. There’s a small silver tag next to the hoop with an engraving in black bold lettering:

Always in my heart.

Harry places the collar under his nose, taking in its pungent aroma, leather and bright, cold silver dancing under his nose, making him imagine all of the different scenarios with the collar. His cock twitches in interest. Harry opens his eyes, and Louis is just staring at him, waiting patiently.

“I love it so much, thank you,” he lunges forward to hug Louis and kiss him everywhere. Louis giggles in response. Harry starts moving his way down Louis’ torso, but before he can make it to Louis’ cock to properly thank him for his gift, Louis stops him. Again.

“Wait, wait, I have one more thing,” Louis tells him. 

Harry pouts. “There’s more?”

Louis runs his thumb across Harry’s lips to smooth out his pout. “Yes, baby, there’s more. But first,” he takes the collar, motioning for Harry to lean forward so Louis can get better access, and he places the collar around Harry’s neck.

“Now, I need you to get on your knees in front of the bed for me, okay? I need to step out for a moment, and I’ll be right back. Can you do that for me baby?” Louis asks, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. Harry leans into his touch, he’s so warm and soft.

Harry can already feel himself wanting to slip under, but he does everything in his power to stay with Louis. He lets out a long, airy sigh, “Yes, daddy.” The word slips out of his mouth easily now, like butter melting on toast. He finds it on the tip of his tongue nearly every time they fall into these roles — their roles. 

Louis kisses Harry on the lips, “You’re such a good boy for me,” he praises before he gets out of bed and, without turning to look back at Harry, walks out of the room.

Harry takes another deep breath, making himself focus on the task at hand.

Just breathe.

He gets out of bed, walks over to the front of it, and drops to his knees carefully, not knowing exactly how long Louis will have him waiting today. The longest he’s been like this has been a couple of hours, but it doesn’t seem like it will be too long this time. 

While he waits, he counts as he reminds himself to breathe every few seconds.

Breathe in...breathe out…The collar constricts against his throat with each breath he takes, making Harry close his eyes, because it’s a lot. Kneeling here, waiting for Louis, there’s nowhere else Harry would rather be. He’d wait for Louis as long as it would take, no matter what.

Harry has no idea how much time has passed before he’s hit with the aroma. Leather. Harry smells leather, before he even realizes that Louis is back. He hadn’t heard the door open, yet somehow Harry knows that Louis is back. Sharing his space, taking up all the extra room in not only the bedroom but Harry’s chest as well. And when Harry looks up from where he was counting, focused on the chipped hardwood floor piece beneath him, his heart stops.

Fuck.

Louis is standing in the doorway in fucking tight, black leather trousers. The leather smells so good, it makes Harry’s mouth water. He wishes Louis were closer, so that Harry could nuzzle his nose along the leather, inhale it, taste it. Harry can make out the outline of Louis’ cock in those trousers, and it’s fucking obscene. There’s laces on the sides of the trousers, and Harry has to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning, because he needs to remember to be good, for Louis. Louis walks closer to Harry, and that’s when he realizes Louis’ got something in his hand. It’s a silver chain, with clips on the ends, and...oh.

Louis has nipple clamps. Harry’s cock hardens, and he’s so fucking gone.

_~~~~_

Standing outside the bedroom door Louis felt ridiculous. Leather trousers. 

When Harry had first suggested it, told him he’d “die” to see Louis in them, Louis had snorted soda out of his nose. And then he realized Harry was serious. 

So, here he is. In leather trousers. 

Getting them on was a comedy of errors. He felt a little like Ross in that episode of “Friends”, contorting his body this way and that in their small guest bathroom down the hall. Just to get them up his legs and over his arse. Thankfully he didn’t need to get out the baby powder. They’re tight, for one thing. And a bit...stiff. But. Harry had asked for them, and...what Harry wants.

But now, standing just over the threshold of their bedroom, in said leather trousers, Louis is really, really glad he put them on, and let Harry talk him into buying them. Glad he picked the ones with the laces up the sides and the lace up crotch. Likes the way they feel, tightly bound over his hardening cock. He feels sexy in them — powerful. He feels like everything Harry could want, could need, in this moment.

Harry is at the end of the bed, on his knees, back straight, hands behind him, clasped at his bum. Wearing the collar.

That collar.

It’s more than just a collar. That small scrap of metal and leather, signifies that Harry is Louis’. And it makes Louis’ heart clench in his chest at the idea of it. Because it means trust and adoration and tenderness and letting go. It means that Harry gives himself, willingly, to Louis and that Louis will always, always take care of him. 

Louis realizes that Harry is waiting for him. He swings the glittery chain that hangs loosely from his right hand and watches Harry’s eyes track it. They are smooth polished silver and can be calibrated to accommodate a variety of sizes. Harry’s eyes are blown and glazed over just looking at them. 

“Baby?” Louis stops in front of Harry and twists his hands in the back of Harry’s hair. Harry lets out a pretty moan and his eyes slip closed. “You look so pretty in my collar. Look at you.” Louis’ voice is reverent, worshipful. Harry deserves it. Deserves so much.

Harry tilts his head closer to Louis, so that his forehead nudges up against Louis’ dick. Harry opens his mouth wide and tucks it around the head of Louis’ cock through the stiff leather trousers. Louis holds in the groan that strangles his throat. Harry’s mouth on the best of days is obscene and so perfect in every way, but now, the wet heat of it sliding across the front of the leather trousers? It’s unreal. 

He can see that Harry’s cock is fully hard and arches away from his body. There is a small wet spot on the duvet where the head has rubbed when he was facing the bed. He needs to put a stop to this before it goes too far — no sense in ending it before it’s even begun.

“Love you,” Harry breathes, his voice light and airy, miles away.

“Love you too, baby. But none of that. Gonna take care of you. Come. Sit up on the bed for daddy, yeah?”

Harry complies immediately, always eager to please. Louis feels the heat of his body curl around him like smoke from a chimney on an icy winter day. He’s always so warm. Hot. Burning up when they get like this. When he’s in need like this. 

“You like these?” Louis holds the clamps out taut in front of Harry’s face. 

Harry nods eagerly. “Want them,” he half moans, half whispers. 

Louis pets across Harry’s cheek, feeling the strength of his jaw and the way his morning stubble prickles his palm. “I know you do baby. Gonna give them to you, ok? Make you feel so good.”

Harry nods again, clasping his hands on his lap, just beneath his balls. Sitting like this, he almost looks like he’s offering his cock in sacrifice. Louis bites his cheek, keeping the thought inside his frenzied brain. Harry doesn’t need comedy relief Louis, he needs Daddy Louis. 

Louis’ cock jumps at the thought.

Bending down, Louis fastens one clamp to Harry’s right nipple. Harry keens as Louis tightens the screw. “Remember your word, yeah Haz?”

Harry throws his head back and bites his lip. “Anchor,” he whines. His cock is wet. Wetter, actually, pre-come dripping steadily down the hard, veined shaft. Louis represses the urge to lick right up the side of it. Later.

“That’s right baby. Anchor. You use that if it’s too much.” 

Louis moves quickly to the other side and fastens the other clamp. He tightens it. He couldn’t have predicted the gorgeous reaction Harry has to it. His entire chest is flushed a pale peony pink. His dark rosy nipples are pinched red and they look juicy and ripe, like raspberries on a stalk. Harry cries out and his entire body shivers uncontrollably. He looks positively radiant. 

“Oh baby. You…” Louis feels at a total and complete loss for words. Harry is everything. Always. But, right now, in this moment, he looks like a Pre-Raphaelite painting, all golden florid tones, peachy glow spilling into the light like sunbeams. Stunning. 

“You look so beautiful,” Louis whispers and drops to his knees, watching Harry’s face carefully. Harry’s eyes are open wide, and his mouth is wet and welcoming. 

As if he is reading Louis’ mind he moans, “Please kiss me.”

Louis surges forward and brings their lips, their tongues, their entire mouths together. Invading Harry’s mouth, Louis takes, takes, takes. He takes the soft stale morning taste from him and he takes the bright edge of pain. He gives him leather scented promises that speak of endless euphoria and something that he can’t name, but can only feel, share with Harry. His Harry.

Cupping Harry’s cheeks, Louis kisses and kisses him until they are both breathless — until Harry is a begging mess, tears crowding his evergreen eyes and mouth panting for more. “I’ve got you baby, ‘ve got you.”

Louis stands, fingering the collar resting just below the bob in Harry’s throat. “Gorgeous boy. Most gorgeous boy. Mine.”

Harry smiles, soft and pink and repeats, “Yours.”

“You’ve been so good, baby. I’m going to give you something now, yeah?”

“Yes, please.” Harry says, obedient. Yielding. 

Louis starts undoing the laces that are stretched obscenely against his cock. The trousers are barely holding him in anymore, he has grown to full hardness and is testing the flexibility of the leather. Harry’s breathing quickens, and Louis can see the way his cock strains away from his body. It won’t be long now. 

“Gonna let you suck me, yeah?” Louis tugs the laces free and the trousers fold open. With just a little wriggle from side to side he is able to push them down under his full, tight balls so that his dick pops out, nearly hitting his husband in the face.

Again, not the time for laughing. 

Louis slowly wanks himself, noting the way Harry’s tongue slips out of his mouth and the way he blinks his eyes slowly, hypnotically. “Gonna let you suck me and then, when I come, and you’ve cleaned me up, I’ll let you come, ok?”

Harry nods his head, a few springy curls jostling at his crown. “Yes. Please.” 

“My good boy. Good, gorgeous boy.” Louis pushes forward, sliding his wet cockhead over the plump fullness of Harry’s bottom lip. He hears the leather crinkle behind the knees of his trousers and he can smell the acrid scent of it and his own musk mixing with Harry’s scent — clean, citrusy, yearning. Need. Desire.

Harry waits patiently. But only just. His shoulders are hunched forward and his abdomen muscles are coiled as if he is waiting to pounce, attack. All he needs is Louis’ approval.

“Go ahead babe. You can blow me.” 

Harry dives forward, all warm, wet heat. He slurps around the head messily, saliva dripping down Louis’ shaft immediately. And, Christ. It feels unreal. Louis feels stars shooting off inside his brain at the first touch of Harry’s mouth on him. He’s said it once, he’s said it a million times...Harry’s mouth is fucking made to suck his cock. 

The perfect slide of Harry’s tongue around his shaft combined with the soft, but firm, sucking provided by his lips, along with the occasional scrape of teeth — the bump against the back of his throat…

It all adds up to something Louis can never fully get used to. Doesn’t want to, if he’s honest. He loves the surprise of it--the perfect incredulity of it. Every time. Harry does this thing with the tip of his tongue dipping inside Louis’ slit that has him crying out. Without realizing it, but still, somewhere, in the back of his mind, being fully aware of it — Louis grabs for Harry’s hair with both hands and starts fucking his cock inside Harry’s waiting, welcoming mouth. Harry stares up at Louis, eyes glazed and leaking tears, face bright red crimson and he’s so beautiful. Garbled moans and deep, guttural, almost wailing noises spill from his mouth and Louis can tell, can practically see the way Harry lives for this. Loves it so much.

Louis finds himself hurtling toward his release far quicker than he could have imagined. Because this? This is a lot. The collar. The trousers. The smell of leather and come and desperation hanging in the air around them. It pushes him forward, driving him faster and faster. Before he knows it he’s reaching down and pulling at the chain that connects the nipple clamps, more to ground himself than anything else, giving himself something to hold on to. Something besides the mercurial heat that is Harry and Harry’s mouth. 

“Fuck. Haz.” Louis is coming, pulsing inside Harry’s mouth, some of it sputtering in the close space between them, most of it gliding down Harry’s throat. 

Harry is vibrating he’s so turned on. He’s moaning so loud and brazenly around Louis’ cock, and Louis realizes it’s the clamps. The clamps and making Louis come has Harry completely untethered, shaking with the need to climax himself. “Come Harry — “ Louis demands, shakily, he’s so, so gone for this boy. His boy. “Baby you can come,” he says quieter, more in control. Louis pulls on the chain and let’s himself fall from Harry’s perfect, perfect mouth. 

And then...then, he watches, amazed, at Harry coming all over himself, Louis’ leather trousers, all the way up to the nipple clamps and chain holding them together. Completely untouched. At Louis’ command.

“God. Baby.” Louis tears the trousers off of his sweaty legs as Harry falls backward to the bed, an invisible thread cut and letting him float away. The trousers are thrown to the side and Louis climbs next to Harry, shushing him and kissing him, holding him close as he comes down, as he floats in the space between here and there, under, blissfully under. 

Harry falls asleep quickly, and Louis undoes the clamps carefully. He presses, soft, dry kisses to the tender place where the clamps held him captive. He applies sweet scented cream and cleans Harry up with wipes from their bedside table. He hums quietly into his tangled hair while his boy, his lovely, lovely boy, sleeps. 

He glances around the room and spies the leather trousers on the floor in a crumpled heap. When Harry comes back to him, Louis is going to ask him if he liked them, if he wants Louis to wear them again. Because Louis wants to. Desperately. He liked the way he felt in them, liked the reaction Harry had to him in them. Louis wonders if maybe, he can wear the trousers every time, or, often at least. 

It’s then, in the quiet aftermath, that Louis realizes how much he needs this. How much he needs to take care of Harry. It feels as necessary as oxygen to him, this partially formed thing they’ve embarked upon. The delicate balance of trust and control, give and take, of Harry giving himself over, completely, to Louis time and time again. It feels monumental. And it honestly takes Louis’ breath away for a moment — the realization that this, all of this, is just as much for him as it is for Harry. 

_~~~~_

Harry’s anniversary gift to Louis turned out to be a weekend getaway just outside of the city, to the countryside where he’d arranged for a wine tasting and other little things he knew Louis would love. He’d planned some shopping and made reservations at a quaint farm to table restaurant, and even managed to book them a couple’s massage. Harry had already cleared the dates with Louis’ job, and a few weeks later, they were in a packed car getting ready to go, after dropping off Bailey at the pet sitter’s. 

The warm summer breeze feels refreshing against Harry’s skin as they drive with the windows open, admiring the view as they go. Louis drives while Harry makes sure to play some good tunes on his road trip playlist, because he’s got a playlist for every occasion and this would be no exception. 

“What song is this?” Louis asks while he turns up the volume.

Harry smiles. He loves introducing Louis to new music, “It’s called ‘Hotter Than Hell’ by Dua Lipa.”

Louis bops along to the music, his eyes soft, and smile bright, “I like it.” Harry joins him, moving his head to the beat of the music.

They continue their dance along, even when the song is long gone, and even when John Legend’s “All of Me” begins to play. 

“Oh my God, that reminds me,” Louis says, “There’s this new guy Niall at the office, says he can throw better shapes than me, can you believe?”

Harry giggles, “How dare he?” He plays along, “Did you prove him wrong?”

“You know I did,” Louis says, winking at him before turning his attention back to the road. “He’s a cool lad, he invited us out for drinks next weekend, actually. Wants to meet new people, he and his husband are new in town.”

“Sounds great.” Harry and Louis are always up for meeting new people, each of them always making friends everywhere they go. 

Harry startles, “I forgot to tell you,” he taps Louis on the arm, “Zayn gave his two weeks notice the other day. Looks like he and Perrie are getting divorced after all.”

“Really? What a shame.”

“Yea, Perrie was telling me she just can’t forgive the cheating,” Harry tells him. He hates sounding like a gossip, but Perrie was one of the first teachers he befriended after uni. He was there when she and Zayn, the English teacher, were trying to be sneaky about their relationship.

“Very unfortunate,” Louis says. Steve Aoki’s “Back 2 U” begins to play and Louis’ eyes light up, “Yes! This is my jam!”

The rest of their trip is pleasant and Harry feels lighter, less burdened, by the time they pull up to the circle drive of the quaint inn they are staying at. They’re greeted by friendly staff who help them up to their room.

Their room is bright and airy, with turquoise walls and black and white furniture, a nice change of pace from their own bedroom at home. Harry and Louis settle in before they get ready for their wine tasting tour. 

“Babe?” Harry calls from the bathroom. “Gonna jump in the shower.” 

Louis is laying on the bed clicking through the TV channels. “Ok,” he says absently. 

Harry’s feeling a little twitchy when he gets out of the shower. He hadn’t talked to Louis about this beforehand, but he wants to try something. Something that feels so bold, so demonstrative, that Harry is feeling a little lightheaded. The excitement of it and the unbridled courage of it...he feels ready to make a statement. And he hopes that Louis is ok with what he has in mind.

Also — when they’d traveled anytime before they hadn’t really played. Not like they do at home. Harry wants to change that — plans to change that — this weekend. 

He finds the leather collar and places it on the bed without a word as he continues to slowly put some clothes on, pulling his skinniest jeans over his arse and buttoning up a brightly colored floral shirt halfway up his torso. By the time he’s finished, the TV is turned off and Louis is staring at the collar, lips parted open. Harry takes the piece of leather, and walks over to Louis’ side, sitting next to him.

Biting his lip, he looks at his husband with hooded eyes, “So...I thought maybe I could wear this while we’re out,” he says looking at the collar, looping his finger through the cold metal loop.

It’s not that he wants to unleash his exhibitionist side by having sex in public or anything, as enticing as that idea may be. Harry can already feel people’s eyes on him, on the collar, and just the thought of others knowing he’s taken, that he belongs to someone, makes his mouth go dry.

Louis takes the collar from Harry, he clears his throat, “Are you sure?”

Harry nods, “I really want to.” He wants people to know — that he’s Louis’.

Without another word, Louis fastens the collar around Harry’s neck, running his fingers along his throat, making Harry swallow hard. His eyes feel heavy, and he takes a deep breath.

Focus.

Louis kisses him, it’s gentle at first, but then, Harry feels him biting on his bottom lip, making him moan. Harry’s hands latch onto Louis’ neck, because he needs something to ground himself, he can’t drift away right now.

Get it together.

With one last peck, Louis pulls away, his eyes are full of amazement, “My precious boy,” he rasps, running his fingers through Harry’s curls, making Harry lean into the touch, he can almost purr with how amazing it feels. Every touch from Louis feels like such an honor, like he’s the most fortunate man in the world. 

They leave their room, Harry’s arm inside Louis’ looped one, holding onto him, letting himself be guided. Thankfully, the drive to the vineyard isn’t too far, at least not long enough for Harry to lose focus. He feels Louis’ hand on his with an occasional squeeze, and Harry’s pretty sure Louis is checking to make sure he’s still with him, which he appreciates so much. It’s hard to stay present, but Harry knows that if he can it will be worth it. 

Once at the small winery, they’re surrounded by picturesque rows and rows of grape vines traversing rickety cedar trellises. The building itself looks like an old barn, but it’s clear that it’s been made to look antique, the structure new and flanked by impressive wine press machinery. Louis gives Harry a small, private smile as he eases the car into a spot near the entrance. Harry can hardly contain his excitement as the butterflies rear up in his tummy, the idea that he’s actually wearing the collar, Louis’ collar, in public...it’s heady and thrilling — makes Harry feel dangerous, wanton in a way he’s never felt before. 

They’re greeted by their tour guide, Liam, who had been expecting them. He leads them into a room to go over what they’ll be doing during their visit. Harry notices that the main room is done in antiqued oak, marred and full of character, along with draped velvet burgundy fabric and floor to ceiling paned windows. There are small bistro tables around the room and a gorgeous bar lining one whole wall. There are bottles and bottles of wine on shelves and lined up along the bar, shades of golden amber and claret red. Harry loves the way it smells in here, like earth and something sweet, yet bitter. It reminds him of visiting his grandmother’s house when he was a child. It’s nostalgic, comfortable.

Liam clears his throat and calls the small group to the bar. “Ok, everyone. Welcome to Payne’s Winery. Today we are going to sample some of our finest wines and give you a chance to see how they are paired with various food items. You’ll also be able to take a tractor ride through the fields and see the presses if you’d like, after the tasting.”

Harry watches the tall man with soft brown eyes carefully. He’s handsome, rugged in a way that Louis isn’t, not that he’d tell Louis that. The idea of it makes him almost giggle. Louis is sort of sensitive about his size, and his...masculinity. Which is ridiculous — because Louis is...everything to Harry. He’s exactly masculine and feminine enough. He’s handsome and pretty all at once and so, so dear to Harry. He tangles his fingers with Louis’ and gives them a little squeeze. His other hand touches the collar lightly as their eyes meet — and there is a feeling that settles in Harry’s chest. It blooms, fierce and hot, like a flame igniting. He’s Louis’ and nothing will ever change that.

Maybe it’s the fact that they haven’t eaten anything since this morning, or maybe Harry is just a lightweight, or both, but after just a few samples of wine, Harry feels warm. And happy. He finds himself smiling so wide at everything that Liam says, hanging on his every word. Liam is not bad looking at all, he’s about the same height as Harry, has short dark hair and honey brown eyes. His bum isn’t too bad either, at least Harry finds his eyes drifting there more than usual. At this point, Liam’s talking about something that Harry isn’t really sure about since he stopped paying attention because Liam’s eyes are just so nice to look at. 

Louis is across the room, chatting with someone else from the winery. Something about climate change and soil conditions. Louis is cute. Cuter than Liam, but still...Liam is leaning over the bar staring at Harry with those cute eyebrows and that teeny grin of his and Harry can’t help it. He’s friendly. Not his fault.

“So, L — Liam. How long have you worked here?” Harry recognizes his voice, hears it, but somehow it seems far away, not quite here in the same room. 

Liam smirks and passes Harry a basket of water crackers. Harry knows he’s supposed to nibble one of those before he sips the next wine. He’d rather just drink, thank you very much. But he takes one anyway. Louis likes it when he obeys. 

Louis.

Louis has pretty eyes. And his hands are so delicate but strong. Harry giggles around the bland cracker. Liam slides a small glass of pale yellow liquid toward him. “My whole life. That’s my name over the door outside.”

Harry goes to pick up the glass but his elbow slips on the edge of the bar. He laughs, loud, clapping a hand over his mouth to contain the noise, albeit belatedly. Liam pulls a crisp white cloth from behind the bar to clean up the mess Harry has made. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Harry continues to giggle because he can’t help it. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam smiles warmly at him, genuinely not bothered, as if it’s not the first time someone spills something. 

Harry smiles back, “Thanks.” He turns to see where Louis is and he’s still talking to that guy. He huffs. They’re supposed to be spending this time together, and instead they’re each doing their own thing. No, Harry will have none of that. He knows exactly what will get his attention.

He turns back to Liam, who is placing a glass of water on the counter for him. Harry’s hand rests on top of Liam’s, and he flutters his eyelashes and pops his dimple out, “Thank you so much for the tour, I really enjoyed it.”

Liam smiles, “It’s my pleasure. You’re welcome to come back any time.”

Harry nods and notices the bowl of grapes that’s at the end of the bar, “Hey Liam, what did the grape say when it was crushed?” He asks.

Liam chuckles, “I don’t know, what did he say?”

“Nothing, it just let out a little wine,” Harry replies, and they’re both laughing. Harry pats Liam playfully on the arm after he tells him he could’ve done better.

Just as he’s settling down, after having wiped a couple of tears from his eyes, he feels a firm hand on his elbow. And shit, he’d forgotten he was trying to make Louis jealous to begin with.

“Come with me.” 

Harry turns slowly to find Louis at his side. His eyes are an icy shade of blue and he looks...angry? Why is Louis angry? Harry bites his lip and wobbles a little on the heel of his boot. “Wha — ?”

“I said,” Louis’ voice is firm, demanding. Harry recognizes it as that voice. “Come. With. Me.”

Harry lets Louis drag him toward the toilets and he notices two things simultaneously. The first is that Louis is mad at him for flirting? Flirting with the sommelier. And the second is that he’s hard. His cock is hard and pressing against his flies almost painfully at the thrill of what he thinks might be coming next.

_~~~~_

Chad’s lovely. An all around nice guy. But he’s boring as hell. He’s got Louis trapped in the corner and he’s talking about the effect of global warming on grape production in the south of France. And it’s...well, it’s bordering on annoying. All he did was ask one question about what temperature their grapes grow best and then Chad was off. 

To make matters worse, Harry is tipsy. Well on his way to drunk, actually. He’s laughing loudly — that particular laugh that Louis recognizes as his ‘oh shit, someone better cut me off soon before I get messy’ laugh. And all Louis wants to do is get to his boy and ground him, tell him to ease off and make sure he’s ok. That’s all he wants. 

But then there’s Chad.

“Anyway, some people think Al Gore is full of shite, but not me…”

Harry laughs again and like a compass, Louis feels himself being drawn to him, his entire body turning toward the sound. He sees the sommel — fuck. What was that word? The bartender, the fucking bartender, lean over the counter and put his fucking hand on Harry’s arm. Then, as if in slow motion, Louis watches Harry giggle and pat the dude’s hand playfully, eyes skating around the room until he meets Louis’. Gazes locked, Harry licks his lip and runs his fingers up the guy’s arm and... And what the actual fuck?

Rage flares up, ugly and white hot at the base of his skull and then, suddenly, he knows — like he knows how Harry likes his tea and how he sounds first thing in the morning, knows Harry better than he knows himself sometimes — without really understanding that Harry is teasing him. Testing him from across the room. With Louis’ fucking collar on. 

And it takes a lot for Louis to reign it in — sucking in at least five deep, meditative breaths before he figures out what he’s going to do. He looks at Chad and imagines pinging the guy right between the eyes before he excuses himself politely, mumbling something about the loo and he walks purposefully across the room.

Harry is twirling a small taster goblet with his long nimble fingers and his long, lanky frame sways from side to side as Louis descends upon him. His husband pops his arse out just as Louis touches his arm and the fucking wanker knows exactly what he is doing. Exactly. Louis swallows a grimace and gives Liam, the bartender (not somealeayay-whatever), a tight grin. 

“Come with me,” Louis tells Harry, feeling the heat of his husband’s body seep into his side. He wants to bend him over his knee right here, right now, in this lofty room with daylight waning into shades of purple and orange outside. Wants to bend him over and punish him. Give him what he wants. What he’s practically screaming for. 

Harry’s eyes are wide but he follows. Good. 

Louis’ breath is coming fast as he drags Harry down the dark cool hall to the loos. He works hard to control it, to keep himself in check. Harry may want to be punished, but what he wants and what he needs are two different things. With a startling realization, Louis recognizes that he has to punish Harry but Harry needs him to take care of him. To let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he belongs to Louis. And because of that, Louis will always, always take care of him. 

Even if that means making him painfully sorry for what he did. In a good way.

Louis pulls Harry into the (thankfully) empty bathroom. He locks the door behind them and pushes Harry right up to the opposite wall, shoving him against the tile. He grabs a fistful of Harry’s hair and yanks his head to the side and hisses, hot and low, against Harry’s throat, “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Harry whines and bucks his hips forward and, Christ, he’s rock hard in his jeans. God. Louis thinks he might die. This man and what he does to him. 

“Answer me.” Louis pins Harry’s hips to the wall with one hand, holding fast to his hair with the other. 

“I — “ Harry moans as Louis pulls his hair, not very gently. “I...Lou.” 

Louis watches, thinly concealing his awe, as Harry’s eyes glaze over and his mouth drops open. His face flushes a pale pink and like that, he’s under, slack and pliant in Louis’ arms. “That’s right baby. That’s right.”

Harry mouths at Louis’ neck and whimpers, “‘M sorry. Please, Daddy. Please.”

“It’s alright baby, I’ve got you.”

Harry sighs, and Louis moves the hand pinning his hip down to cup Harry’s crotch. Harry whines again, this time louder, and Louis swallows it, delving inside the wet heat of Harry’s plush mouth with a demanding kiss that leaves them both panting. He tastes the sweet lingering flavor of the fruity wines Harry had sampled and the clean mint taste of the gum he always chews. Harry smells like sex and he hasn’t even gotten his jeans off yet. 

Not that he’s going to do that here. 

Squeezing at the head of Harry’s cock, feeling a small patch of wetness seeping through the denim, Louis releases his hold on Harry’s hair. He bites at the pulse point right above the collar and whispers, “What happens to bad boys, Hazza?”

Harry knocks his head back on the wall and cries out when Louis grabs at him roughly, fitting his whole hand around the outline of his shaft. “They — they...get p — punished.” 

“Good boy. You need to get punished, don’t you?”

“Y — yes, daddy. Yes. God. Yes.”

Louis can feel the anticipation rolling off of Harry and it’s like a calm, cool mask slips over Louis’ persona. He can actually feel it click into place. Their roles are set and there is nothing, nothing, Louis would do to change this. He wants to get Harry back to the hotel and get started. 

_~~~~_

“Take off your clothes and sit on that chair.” 

Harry complies immediately, pulling off his jeans with a mewling sound as his cock is hit with the cool dry air of the hotel room. His shirt follows, but he keeps the collar on. 

Of course he does.

Louis goes to the bathroom and brings back a bath sheet, tapping Harry on the knee to get him to stand. He places the towel on the chair and then eases Harry back to the seat. He glances around the room and sees the long silken turquoise cord that holds the drapes back away from the window. Inspiration strikes and he walks slowly across the room, feeling Harry’s eyes burning into his back as he moves. 

Pulling the drapes closed, Louis takes one of the cords and tugs it free. He wraps it around his hands and yanks it taut, delighting in the gasp Harry produces. He smirks, thoroughly enjoying how everything is falling into place. 

“Baby boy?”

Harry’s head lolls on the back of the chair, his hair obscuring one gem-colored eye. Louis’ breath catches in his throat because, shit, he’s so far gone already. And it’s remarkable, is what it is, that Harry is so ready for this. So needy for it. 

“Hm?”

“Gonna tie you up now and you have to be good for me, yeah?” Louis walks around to the back of Harry’s chair and secures first one hand and then the other. He pulls on the soft cord and finds it tight but not too binding — Harry could probably pull free if he wanted. 

Harry responds with a beautiful, sleepy smile and looks up at Louis with puckered lips. Louis presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth and continues, “You are going to sit here nice and quiet while I go clean up, yeah? And then, then I’m going to ride you until you make me feel good, ok? But you won’t be able to come. You can’t come until I say, yeah?”

Louis knows Harry hears him, watches as understanding dawns on his face but tests him to make sure. “Tell me what’s going to happen, Hazza.”

“Can’t come,” Harry says, deep and slow, “Not til you say.” 

Louis loves the way Harry sounds when he’s like this. His voice is an aphrodisiac in its regular everyday state, but like this? When he is under and compliant? It’s honey sweet and slow, like a languid stream on a hot, humid day. It makes Louis’ skin crawl with how badly he wants him. 

Pushing Harry’s hair off his face he kisses him one more time. “That’s my good boy. You need to be punished, baby. You were a very bad boy tonight. And…” Louis pulls his t-shirt up over his head, watching Harry look at him with hungry eyes. “And, it’s my job to make sure you understand that what you did was very, very wrong.”

Harry’s cock twitches against his belly, leaving a smear of pre-come against the flushed skin. Louis swallows thickly and resists every urge to lick it right up. “Now. Be a good boy and maybe you’ll get a small reward when I come back.”

Harry whines and mutters, “Please,” against his chest, his head dropping in shame. 

As Louis closes the door to the bathroom with a quiet click he hears Harry exhale. And it sounds like desire and relief and an awful lot like contentment.

 

_~~~~_

There’s no way Harry can tell how much time has passed since Louis went to “clean up” and left him tied and bound to this chair. There’s no clock within reach or that he can see from where he’s sitting. That, with the fact that he’s still a bit drunk and slipping under makes it very difficult to sense anything around him. Especially because when he’s under it feels like everything runs in slow motion for him. All he knows is that he’s sweating, his chest is heaving, and he can hear his own pulse ringing in his ears--like a time-bomb ticking right before it explodes. 

When Louis first hinted at punishing him, Harry’s cock had gotten hard so fast, and he was so on board with whatever his husband might have in store for him. Not knowing what's coming next, it has its pros and cons. Right now Harry is having trouble coming up with the pros.

Finally, finally Louis emerges from the bathroom, the steam trailing behind him, and Harry’s mouth falls open. Because Louis is a fucking vision. He’s positively glowing with the way the light reflects off of his perfectly wet skin. He’s naked, his hair swooped to the side, the way Harry loves it so much. His lips are cherry red, and his eyes are pure sapphire. For a split second Harry forgets he’s bound to his chair and is met with restraint when he tries to reach out.

Fuck.

“Daddy...please,” he begs. Harry doesn’t even care how needy and desperate his voice sounds because he wants Louis. Only Louis.

Louis’ face doesn’t even flinch, it’s like Harry’s invisible or something as he continues about, grabbing some lotion from one of their bags to apply it all over his body. Harry has never been more jealous of lotion before in his life. He has to bite on his lip to keep himself from screaming, because if he knows — has a feeling anyway — that if he makes any noise, there’s no telling what else Louis will do to punish him. He’s not sure he can wait much longer. 

Louis continues to take his sweet ass time. His fingers work the lotion into his calfs, down to his feet in such a soft and delicate way, Harry’s mouth waters. He wants to lick Louis everywhere, and bite him for torturing him so. Louis pumps more of the lotion into his palm, rubbing it into both hands and working it onto his round bum, the skin and muscle molding and moving with his strong hands. He grabs the mounds of flesh, pulling his arse apart so that Harry can see his smooth pink hole — and Harry can’t stop staring. He loves Louis’ arse, always has and always will. Harry feels like he’s in a trance with the amount of attention Louis is giving to lotioning his arse, knowing full well what he’s doing to Harry. Because Harry is so hard — has been for an unfathomably long time. A whine manages to escape Harry’s lips.

Louis stops what he’s doing, and turns to look over his shoulder, “What?” he says, mockingly, “I thought Liam’s bum was more interesting.”

Harry shakes his head vigorously, “No, never. Please.”

Louis turns around to cross his arms across his chest, his pretty cock dangling, nearly fully hard, between his legs making Harry’s breath hitch. “Oh no? It sure looked that way from where I was standing,” Louis shrugs, turns around and goes back to what he was doing.

Harry swallows a groan, staring up at the ceiling trying to calm himself down before it gets to be too much. He likes being able to touch and take Louis whenever he wants, and being restricted from doing that for so long is doing things to him. Messing with his mind, making him feel unhinged, off-center.

When Harry finally gains his bearings, his gaze falls back to Louis who’s on the bed and already two fingers deep into his arse. He’s letting out these breathy little moans, looking so fucking beautiful. His skin is still shiny damp and and his head hangs between his shoulders, knees spread wide on the bedspread.

God.

“You see, if you would have behaved, these could have been your fingers inside of me,” Louis tells him, almost conversationally. Maddening.

“I’m sorry daddy...please...let me.”

Louis shakes his head, firm. Resolute. “No...ngh..not yet,” he says as he continues to work himself open. 

And it’s like Harry is being deprived of the oxygen that he needs to survive, or like he’s stranded in a desert with nowhere to go, and Louis is that air and water that his body needs to live. But Louis isn’t letting him have it. It’s feels so unfair — it feels like punishment..

But he doesn’t complain, he doesn’t because he knows that he was bad, and he knows that Louis needs to punish him for what he did. He wants Louis to punish him. So, as much as he hates it, he sits there, and watches. Watches Louis opening himself up in front of him, with no way for Harry to touch him.

Breathe. Be good.

Louis’ body is flushed pink, and he’s writhing on the bed as he adds a third lubed up finger. Harry is scared to even look down at his dick, knowing it’s probably purple from how hard he is. He really needs Louis to touch him, something, anything, before he explodes.

And then finally, Louis walks over to Harry, who at this point has bitten his lips raw. He’s got the lube in one hand, and without a word coats Harry’s dick generously. Harry keens, letting out a long deep breath, because at last. He’s finally going to get to be inside of Louis. That’s all he wants.

“Don’t come,” is all Louis says, firmly, controlled, before he turns around, his back to Harry. He grabs Harry’s dick and adjusts himself right above it. And slowly, too fucking slowly, Louis begins to lower himself onto it. Harry really wants to scream for him to just get on with it, but he refrains. He’s still being punished anyway. And he’s too overwhelmed to even utter words, at least ones that are comprehensible. 

When Louis bottoms out, Harry takes a deep breath. He’s never concentrated so hard on not coming, because this is too much. Louis is so warm, and tight. Harry just wants to grab a hold of those hips and drill into him mercilessly until he comes undone. But he can’t, won’t. He wants to please Louis, earn his praise. Be good for him. So he shuts his eyes, and waits.

Don’t come.

And when Louis begins to move, it’s a lot, and not enough, all at the same time. Harry opens his eyes and all he sees is Louis’ arse bouncing on his dick, his back muscles rolling and bunching up in these gorgeous, sinewy lines. Louis rolls his head on his strong shoulders and whines prettily as he grinds down with each bounce. Harry knows, from experience, that Louis knows exactly how to move so that he gets Harry’s dick against his prostate with each smooth glide downward. 

It’s nearly too much. Harry groans, he can’t help it — because seeing Louis and hearing and feeling Louis. It’s a lot. Heat coils at the pit of Harry’s stomach, his release dying to come out. Harry wills it to stay put, forcing himself to close his eyes again, as much as he’d love to continue watching Louis work himself on his cock. All he wants is to please Louis, and if he comes before he’s allowed, Louis won’t be happy with him. He needs to do this for him.

“You’re. Doing. So. Well.” Louis grunts out with each bounce, “My. Good. Boy.”

“Daddy,” Harry whines, and, God, his voice sounds like a hollow shell of its normal timbre — it’s shallow and breathless and so, so desperate. He opens his eyes again and as Louis’ pace has increased, the room fills with Louis’ whines and skin slapping against skin. Harry can’t see Louis’ face, can only hear him, but suddenly Louis’ body shivers and stills for a split second, groaning out as he’s coming, clenching all around Harry’s throbbing cock. Harry groans in frustration and admiration because it feels like being strangled — the heat and want too much, driving all of the air from his lungs — but also, his husband just came on his cock and that...that has to count for something. Has to have pleased his husband in some way. 

Louis stops his movements and for a few seconds he just sits there before he slowly stands back up and Harry slips out of him, cock slapping back on his stomach with a wet thwack. Harry moans at the loss. He wants to be inside Louis again. Wants to fill him up in the worst way.

Louis caresses Harry’s face, “You did good, baby.” He goes on to untie Harry from the chair, helping him get back on his feet and walking him to the bed, laying him down. “Stay here, I’m gonna get you some food and water okay?” Harry nods. That’s all he can really do, because he’s still so overwhelmed, and still really needs to come. He thinks the worst is probably over, and Louis will finally let him have his release. His reward.

Louis makes him drink water and gives him some dried fruit that they had packed as a snack for the car ride He places the water bottle on the table next to Harry before he joins him on the bed. “I know you didn’t get to come yet, but I think it’s only fair to not let you come until the morning.”

And...what? Harry can’t believe what he’s hearing. Can’t believe that Louis would — oh God — make him actually wait? He whines in response, like a kid who’s been told he can’t have candy until after dinner, but then, understanding dawns on him like the inevitability of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. He’s being punished. His dick throbs at it, the thought of it. Being punished makes him feel closer, connected to Louis. And it makes him feel ashamed, embarrassed. And Christ, that’s what really does it for him. He has come to realize that sometimes the act of feeling so naughty makes him feel really, really good. And it makes the eventual orgasm that much sweeter. 

Harry reluctantly nods. He trusts Louis. Louis will always take care of him. He knows best. And. Well. He’ll probably make it worth the wait. Harry’s poor cock agrees, twitching feebly in his lap. 

“Okay,” Harry finally agrees. Louis pecks him on the lips and runs his fingers through his hair.

They eat dinner in bed while watching whatever is on the television, but Harry has no idea what he’s watching. He feels like he’s on autopilot, just waiting, waiting, waiting. Wanting. There’s only one thing on his mind. They finally get ready for bed, after Harry takes a cold shower, but it doesn’t help — especially since Louis forbade him from touching himself. His dick is still very much stuck on the events from earlier . 

Louis is asleep within minutes, Harry can hear his soft little snores (Louis claims he doesn’t snore, but whatever) and he can’t sleep. His body feels hot to the touch, and any sudden movement makes the duvet rub against his crotch, causing him to hiss in pain, the edge of the pain sharp and laced with pleasure. It’s something but not nearly enough. Harry shuts his eyes and frustratedly turns to lay on his belly, and somehow he finds himself rutting against the mattress. He only realizes what he’s doing when he feels Louis’ firm hand fisiting into his hair.

“Stop that.”

Louis’ voice is deep and firm, and so fucking hot Harry feels humiliation and arousal zip through him like a live wire. Harry startles, groans in frustration, and then proceeds to turn around and lay on his back. He’s not sure how long he’s restless for, but finally, he finds his eyelids starting to feel heavy against his eyes, and he welcomes the sleep that overtakes him.

Wet tight heat is what startles Harry awake in the morning. He only thinks it’s morning but he can’t tell because the light in the room is still dark and shadow filled, drapes drawn closed. But, fucking Christ, he’s...he’s completely engulfed in flames licking at his spine with the way Louis is sucking him like there’s no tomorrow, making the most obscene slurping noises.

“Fuck!”

Louis pops off Harry’s head and looks up at him with hooded eyes full of desire, “You can come baby,” he says, his voice sweet like honey. And it only takes a few more well placed licks and heavenly bobs of the head on Louis’ part before Harry is coming. Hard. 

“Oh my God. Oh God. Louis.” Harry bites at the pillow to drown out the noises spilling from his mouth but, God. It feels like he hadn’t been allowed to come in decades and the wet suction of Louis’ mouth is like nirvana, it feels so good.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Let go. Let me take care of you. You did so good,” Louis murmurs against his cock, come spurting everywhere and cascading over Louis’ hand, into his mouth, against his face.

Louis laps up every drop Harry has to give, and Harry can’t look away from such a beautiful sight. He lays there, recovering from his intense orgasm, listening to Louis catch his breath, until he finally gains the strength to check the time.

It’s 4am. Harry is so thankful, because it means he can sleep more. 

And maybe, if Louis is up for it, he can punish him again before they head home tomorrow.


	5. Epilogue: Forever

“I can’t — I can’t believe you did all this.”

Louis spreads his arms with a flourish, like he’s a game show host showing off the spoils for a winning round. “Only the best for my baby.”

Harry’s cheeks turn a lovely pink at the nickname — the special nickname. Louis marvels for probably the thousandth time in their relationship how stunning his husband is. Married five years now and Louis still isn’t tired of looking at him. Doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

“Why?” Harry sounds hesitant, distant somehow. Louis chalks it up to just winding down from work still.

“Hm?” Louis catches himself staring at the curve of Harry’s neck and the way it slopes gracefully into his broad shoulders. “Oh. This? I just…” he walks closer to Harry, who is still at the door with his coat and wellies on. “I just wanted you to know how much I love you. How much I appreciate you.”

Harry melts into Louis’ arms and Louis smells the familiarity of him — vanilla and sandalwood, the soft scent of charcoal and oil pastels and watercolors clinging to his skin. Harry’s the head of the art department at his school now, and even though it causes extra stress and longer hours for him, Harry tells Louis he loves that he has more control over his work, and can make teaching better for his colleagues. 

Harry kisses the side of his mouth and runs his chilled fingers up and down Louis’ back. It’s nice. It’s such a comfort, being in his arms like this. 

Harry pulls away and gives Louis a tired smile. “Let me just…” He gestures to the bathroom leaving his wet boots and damp coat behind, not meeting Louis’ eyes.

Louis puts the finishing touches on the meal, made from scratch, thank you very much (albeit using Harry’s mum’s frozen sauce and tinned tomatoes). He adds a sprig of parsley to each plate like he’s seen Harry do many times before and straightens the linen napkins. The candles are lit on the table and the wine is poured. Now, all he has to do is wait for Harry.

A whole glass later and Harry’s still not back from the bathroom. Louis is getting nervous. He tiptoes down the hall and stands outside the closed guest bathroom door, “H?”

Louis hears a small sniffling sound and running water. “H, baby? You ok?”

“I’ll, um...I’ll be right out.” Harry’s voice sounds small, distant. 

Louis scratches his head and feels lost, off center. He goes back to the dining room and starts pacing. That’s what he does when he’s worried. And he worries plenty — about work, bills, the occasional dead squirrel on the road. But Harry? He doesn’t worry about Harry all that much because Harry’s an open book when it comes to Louis. He tells Louis everything, and Louis tells him everything. Which is why Louis is worried. Harry hasn’t told him anything. At all.

Louis covers the food and takes their wine to the living room. He’s still pacing when Harry enters. 

“Oh Lou. I’m sorry — I’ve ruined the meal.” Harry’s voice is thick with emotion. 

“Nonsense.” Louis pulls his husband into his arms. “Now what’s all this? What’s got you so upset?”

Louis takes Harry to the sofa and Harry sips from the glass of red he hands him. Harry takes a shaky breath. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Louis is worried now. Like, actually, really worried. “Harry? You’re — you’re scaring me.”

Harry puts his glass down and leans forward wrapping Louis up in his strong arms. “No. God...it’s. Nothing like. Nothing you should be scared about. I just — “

Pushing a lock of Harry’s thick hair behind his ear, Louis kisses his forehead. “You can tell me, baby. Anything.”

“I saw a pram.”

Louis’ brain is spinning because Harry says it so matter-of-factly, so straightforward that Louis is sure he missed something. “What?”

“A pram, Lou. A pram.”

“Ok…” Louis says slowly, still trying to figure out what his husband is talking about.

Harry stands up and walks to the far wall, running a fingertip along the bookshelf. He turns and looks at Louis, his face blotchy from crying and his eyes a verdant green. “Lou. I wanna have a baby.”

“I…” Louis is at a loss for words. 

A baby.

Soft arms wrap around him and Harry is pressing his lips to Louis’ neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin. Well, not really mouthing, more like talking. But to Louis it’s arousing and that’s...not what Harry’s going for right now.

“I just think that, like. We aren’t getting any younger, right? We’re happy, right?”

“So, so happy,” Louis whispers into Harry’s hair, trying to angle himself away while Harry’s still snuggled next to him. A boner right now would be awkward to say the least. 

Harry hums and leans back, turning his head to look at Louis. His eyes are still wet but there is an excited flush to his creamy skin. “So. I was walking home and I saw a pram. You know one of those big old fashioned kind of posh looking ones. And...like something hit me? I just have this feeling that it’s now. Now is the right time.”

Louis thinks about it. They’ve talked about having kids, but it’s always this far away sort of future thing. Not a right now thing. Not a thing where they’re not exactly financially stable. And they really haven’t built up their careers enough yet. And then there’s the issue of child care — one of them would be home for the first year, but his mum is always on about the importance of early brain development in the first three years, so one of them would have to be home for at least three years, and that means less income, and…

God. A baby.

“I...I need some time, Harry. I...I need to think about it, yeah?” Louis knows he sounds weak, afraid. But, shit. This is huge. This is life changing. And he very much likes his life. Their life. 

Harry looks crestfallen for a second and then his face smooths over. Louis hates thinking he might have hurt him — with his hesitation. But, he knows he needs this. Harry needs to give him this. So they, he, can be sure. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, darling. Of course.” Harry moves into Louis’ space again and hugs him close. 

Louis sighs into the warmth of him. He feels completely overwhelmed, blindsided. “Let’s...you up for some dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.” 

As they tuck into their plates, Louis watches Harry carefully. The tension eases away and they talk about their days, the mundane but beautiful details of their amazing life together. Harry’s face flushes from the wine, and he gets loose and pliant as the night goes on. Louis loves Harry like this. Relaxed, soft. A baby could change this. A baby would change this. All of this. 

Louis’ not sure he’s ready to let all of what he knows go. Not yet, anyway.

_~~~~_

“You wouldn’t believe it!”

“Oh my god! He’s getting so big.”

“I know. I just can’t...look at his cheeks!” Kera from accounting is leaning halfway across the table in the lunchroom. Louis gets closer and sees that Addy has spread a plethora of photographs across the laminate table.

“What do we have here?” He chirps as he flops down with his turkey on wheat. God bless Harry and his heart healthy diet. 

Susette leans across the table and slides a black and white photo toward him. “Addy’s son Howard! Look how cute he is!”

Louis smiles, politely, and puts his sandwich down. The smell of the roasted turkey has his stomach growling but he doesn’t want to be rude. He picks the photo up and means to give a courteous platitude about how fast they grow or how he has his father’s eyes or summat, but then….Wow. That’s a cute baby.

“Addy! He’s...an angel.” Suddenly Louis doesn’t want the sandwich. He wants to hear about this precious little thing in the photo.

And that’s. Oh.

He feels hypersensitive about the B word now. Last night was like having a bomb dropped on him. He’s still reeling from Harry’s pronouncement. A baby. He feels stupid that he can’t get over it, can’t wrap his head around it. Still. Babies are sweet and Louis knows they could make it work. They’ve been through so much together. Why wouldn’t they attack parenthood the same way as they have everything else? Chewing thoughtfully on the crusts of the bread, Louis thinks, as the ladies have wound down their cooing and drooling, that maybe he could be ready for a baby. If he really thought about it…

That thought is flushed down the proverbial toilet when, later, that night while riding home on the tube, a mum and her baby sit next to him for the 20 minute ride. The baby wails the whole time and has a situation going on in his nappy that is...well, not pleasant. He rushes out to the street and thanks the heavens and stars that they don’t have a baby yet. His head hurts and his nose is still clogged with the foul smell and, yeah. He’s not ready.

The next few weeks are a blur of final exams for Harry and finishing a big project for Louis, but throughout it all Louis is plagued by thoughts of “what if” and “why now”. He feels like a yo-yo on a string and he can’t make heads or tails of how he’s feeling. Because it changes from moment to moment. Yesterday, he saw a pregnant woman at the till at the shop, and it made his heart ache knowing he couldn’t give that to Harry. Then, this morning, while paying bills at their second hand kitchen table he scratched his head and thought about how expensive nappies, formula, clothes...kid stuff in general is and — good thing they can’t “accidentally” get pregnant. 

It’s a complete cluster fuck, and Louis is drained by all of it. 

Harry can tell, of course, because he always knows when something isn’t right with Louis. Louis is always a bit more tetchy than Harry, much more restless. But lately? This is bordering on excessive. He needs to calm the fuck down. 

On Friday afternoon Louis and his team finish their project, Louis lets everyone go home early, himself included. He walks straight into their house, lets Bailey out, and goes directly to their bedroom, collapses on the bed with his clothes and shoes still on and promptly buries his face in the pillows. Harry comes home an hour later and finds him there, still. 

“Lou?” His voice travels down the hallway like a calm ocean breeze. Louis smiles, even though he’s exhausted, mind absolutely numb from thinking about babies all the time. 

“Back here!” He calls out, voice muffled with the crisp cotton bedding.

He hears a snort as Harry enters the room and he groans. Fine, he thinks, make fun of me when I’m down. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to. Although...he wouldn’t mind seeing Harry’s pretty face. He turns around and finds Harry stripping out of his work clothes. 

“Alright?”

“No. I am not alright,” he huffs, grumpily.

Harry laughs at him. “What’s up with you? What’s got you so grumpy?” He lays down on the bed, in a soft white cotton t-shirt and his boxer briefs. He smells so good — like hard work and boy. And a little bit like peanut butter. 

“Did you eat the last of the granola bars?”

Harry arches an eyebrow. “I did...I can pick up more tomorrow.” The room is quiet while Harry waits him out.

Louis sits stubbornly in the quiet of their room. “Fine.” He doesn’t look at Harry but feels his eyes boring into the side of his face. 

“How about a bath then?” 

Louis turns and sees Harry’s face, serious and apprising. “Fine,” he says again, because apparently that’s all he can say. 

Harry runs him a bath, and Louis can smell the eucalyptus salts and hear Harry pottering around in their en suite. He grimaces as he gets up off the bed, crankiness oozing from his very pores. He peels his clothes off and stalks to the bathroom. Harry stands against the sink with his arms folded across his chest. His eyebrow is arched as he watches Louis ease into the almost too hot water. 

“Ok?”

Louis grunts and sinks down. 

Harry says, “I’ll give you some time alone. Want some tea?” 

“Yes, please,” Louis murmurs, because now he’s feeling like a total shit. It’s not Harry’s fault he’s crabby. And it’s certainly not Harry’s fault he can’t come to a decision about a baby. 

Harry leaves the room quietly, and Louis is pretty sure he sees him smirking as he walks out.

Well, fuck.

Louis soaks until his toes start to go pruny and he’s added water twice to warm up. He can’t hide in here forever, he knows. He reluctantly gets out and, as he’s drying off his pink tinged skin, it hits him. 

He’s scared.

And, that. That’s it. He’s scared.

He’s scared he won’t be a good enough parent. He’s scared that they’ll do all the wrong things — well, him really, because he’s pretty sure Harry is going to be perfect. He’s scared they won’t have enough money, he’s scared that they’ll say the wrong thing when it comes to Santa Claus, he’s scared that they won’t find the perfect schools and he’s...he’s terrified. 

Deep down he knows that he and Harry love each other and that their love should be enough. But still...he’s scared. Because this is an awesome responsibility. Huge in a way that Louis’ never even considered. It’s very real and not something you can just fuck around with and God. He loves Harry so much. 

Loves him so much and wants to share that love. Grow it. 

But. Still...scared.

It feels like he’s standing on the edge of something ginormous and just wrapping his head around it and then, he’s falling...free falling and in mid-air and there is nothing there to break his fall. And it’s a lot. 

Louis is standing in the middle of their room, breathing heavy, with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping to his shoulders when Harry comes in with two cups of tea. Louis can smell the bittersweet tea leaves and the vanilla scent of Harry. 

“Babe?” Harry’s voice cuts through all of it — through the fear, the frustration, the not knowing. And he’s just...there.

Louis turns to him and whispers, “I’m scared.”

And Harry’s on him. He puts down the mugs and he’s scooping Louis into his arms and he’s hugging him and kissing over his face and he’s whispering “it’s ok, it’s ok” over and over and Louis feels something snap inside of him. 

They fall to the bed and Harry is on top of him kissing him, deep, fervent. Louis wants to swallow him whole, he is consumed by love for him. The towel is gone and Harry is naked too, and there is so much want, so much love between them Louis finds it hard to breathe. 

“Babe,” Harry’s voice is hoarse and rough, “turn over.”

Louis looks up at him with wide eyes and Harry’s face is a majestic symphony of emotion — love, for sure, but desire and pride and pure unadulterated lust. It’s crowding his features, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen his eyes so determined. 

Louis turns and feels Harry’s body cage him while slipping down the bed, easing into the space between his legs. Warm, eager hands massage his backside and Louis gets caught up in it. He moans into the mattress and bucks his hips back because now, abruptly, he needs Harry. Anyway he can get him. He wants him. Wants to feel their devotion, all of this, all of what they share under his skin — inside of him. 

“Gonna eat you out,” Harry rasps, already sounding so far gone. Louis knows that voice, it’s the voice Harry takes on when he’s teetering just near the edge, when he needs Louis to take care of him. “Don’t worry babe, I’ve got you,” he says, more forcibly, more in control...and Louis knows, he knows it’s okay for him to let go a little. 

Harry pulls him apart, not all that gently, and surges forward, tongue out and meaning to destroy him. The first wet, plush push in has Louis keening, he’s absolutely shaking from the sensation of it. Harry’s mouth is something. Harry’s mouth in his arse is another thing entirely.

It’s wet and it’s messy and Harry is moaning like a porn star — there is so much noise. And Louis doesn’t know if it's him or if it's Harry or both of them, but it's loud and its unbridled and it’s so them. 

Harry’s tongue alternates between shoving inside of Louis’ hole and making these wide concentric circles over and around his rim. It’s blindingly good. Louis is white knuckling the sheets and every ounce of angst, of trepidation, worry and fear seems to be rolling off him with each swipe of Harry’s sinful tongue. The end comes too fast when Harry fucks his tongue in and out of his body, moaning louder than someone with a tongue in an arse should be allowed to, and then sucks on his rim, with teeth and lips, and fuck is it good. 

Louis comes all over himself and the sheets and he feels numb, boneless from it. Nothing remains of the worry and the tenseness that had taken up residence in his bones of late, and all that remains is calm. Peace. Love. 

Louis feels Harry moving and straddling the backs of his legs. They are sex-sweaty, and Louis thinks he’ll probably need another shower, and they will definitely need to change the sheets, but he forgets all that when Harry groans, “Lou...can I — can I use you?”

And fuck, yes. Louis will sign up for that every day of the week. He reaches behind him with one arm and weakly pulls Harry forward, popping his bum out. “Yeah. Come on babe. Come on. Wanna hear you.”

Harry shuffles around so he can slip his heavy, full cock between Louis’ wet cheeks, and he starts thrusting between them. He’s deep between Louis’ firm flesh, holding his hips and cheeks solidly between his strong thighs and Louis feels Harry fall forward, holding himself up with his hands splayed on either side of his head on the pillow. Harry is sweaty and he smells so good — spicy and a bit dank, like wet earth and Harry. Like sex.

“Fuck that feels good, Haz. Use me babe. Wanna…” Louis loses his breath as Harry starts fucking between his arse cheeks harder, faster. He’s getting sloppy now and Louis loves the way he sounds. He pants and swears and grunts under his breath, and it falls and crescendos like a roller coaster, getting louder in Louis’ ear until Louis can’t help it. It hurts his sensitive still semi hard cock, but it feels amazing when he starts pumping his hips backward so that Harry gets more friction.

And when Harry comes it’s like the clouds part and the sun shines down on them, a multitude of rays illuminating everything. And Louis loves his boy so much. Loves that he’s made a mess of him. Loves that Harry will always take care of him, just like Louis will always take care of him in return. It’s so fucking perfect, is what it is, and Louis just...crumples.

Louis bursts into tears and Harry falls on top of him, breathing hard, kissing over the side of his face. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Harry chants over and over again. Louis lays there and lets Harry smother him with affection, and he feels so well-taken care of, so safe. It makes him realize that he doesn’t have to do this alone, there’s someone there to share the anxiety and to help work through the fear. This realization is huge. And Louis basks in it because he knows, with Harry by his side, they will make great parents. 

_~~~~_

 

Intense. That’s what the adoption process is.

Once Louis was on board about starting a family, they’d decided that with how long it can take, they should try adoption before surrogacy. After the application, came the preparation classes. Then the visits from the social worker, and after that, the background checks. Getting references from people that know both of them and can vouch for them isn’t hard, but it’s tedious. Then, there’s the medical exams. It’s a lot to do, yet Harry feels like it will all be worth it in the end. 

But the worst part is the waiting.

God the waiting to see if they’re deemed fit enough to adopt a child--that’s the most grueling, the most nerve wracking. Harry lost count of the amount of sleepless nights he’d gone through, worried that they’d get denied the chance to adopt a child.

And then they get the first call.

They’re told that they are approved to adopt, and are referred to an agency that will help match them with a child. So they’re put on the list.

And so there’s more waiting.

It’s been almost a year since their initial application, nearly seven months since they were told they’re going to get matched with a child, and nothing. They occasionally get a call from their social worker just checking in, telling them they still need to be patient. Since they decided to adopt a baby, the waiting time is a lot longer, which they knew from the very beginning, but it still doesn’t make anything less stressful.

One Saturday morning, Harry wakes up to Louis licking and sucking on his nipple, the sensation going straight to his dick, already filling up. 

“Mmm, well good morning,” Harry rasps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Louis detaches himself from Harry’s nub making an obscene popping sound and leans over to kiss Harry on the lips, “Good morning, love,” and reattaches himself back to Harry’s nipple.

Harry giggles, “What’s with the sudden obsession with my nipples?”

Louis pops off again, “Nonsense, you know I’ve always been quite obsessed with these,” he flicks the other one as if to make a point.

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, “True. Then forget what I said, please continue.” Louis doesn’t wait to be told twice. He circles his tongue in small circles before biting and then sucking, making Harry groan and instinctively buck his hips up.

“It’s a good thing that you can’t get pregnant, because I’d be insanely jealous if I had to share these with our babies,” Louis comments while taking his fingers and pinching both nipples, rubbing them between his thumbs and index fingers playfully.

Harry honks like a duck in heat, he’s laughing so hard, “Oh my God Lou!” And they’re both just giggling like little kids in bed under the covers. The morning sun feels warm, making their bedroom glow in the natural light. 

Their laughter settles down and they lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Harry looks over at Louis and his eyes are staring at the ceiling, as if deep in thought.

“Hey Lou?”

Harry knows they haven’t really talked about things like what they’d name their baby or other little details like that just yet, not wanting to get their hopes up until they’ve been matched with a baby, but he kind of feels like it’s the right moment to bring it up.

“What would you want to name our first child?” He asks tentatively, not sure if it’s a subject Louis wants to talk about just yet, but a warm smile spreads on Louis’ face making him look so angelic with the light reflecting on his caramel skin.

“If it’s a boy I’d love Lucas or James,” Louis replies, thoughtfully, “If it’s a girl, I’d want to name them Sophia or Zoey.”

Harry’s taken aback because the way Louis responds, like if he’s had these names picked out for years, it warms his heart to the core.

Harry smiles,” I like those, they’re very nice names,” he says taking one of Louis’ hands and lacing it through his own.

At that moment, Harry can feel some of the stress melting off of him because he knows there’s no need to worry. No matter what happens and no matter how long it may take, Harry and Louis are going to be great parents, and everything will be worth the while.

_~~~~_

While they continue to wait, Harry throws himself into his work, into emptying out the guest bedroom, and trying to decide on a good color scheme for the nursery — one that’s gender neutral, not just because they don’t know the sex of the baby, but because they don’t give a fuck about gender norms. They haven’t started the actual painting of the nursery, “It’s bad luck, Harold!” Louis insisted, so they agreed to hold off until they get the call. So while they wait, they work, they go out, they play, and try not to dwell on the amount of time that has passed since they last heard from Glenda, the agency social worker.

Then, they finally, finally, get the call.

Harry is in the middle of teaching a class. Ever since they’ve been told to wait, he’d left his phone out on his desk, wanting to be near it, even if he’s in the middle of a lesson, he doesn’t care. And it pays off. Because as soon as he sees their social worker’s number, his heart races, and he quickly takes the call, excusing himself from his students for just a couple of minutes.

Harry’s hand trembles as he puts the phone against his ear, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before he answers, “H-hello?”

“Mr. Styles? Hi, it’s Glenda, how are you?”

Harry wants to say fuck the pleasantries and get on with why she called, but he humors her anyway because it gives him a chance to calm down and stop himself from having some sort of panic attack, “I’m well, and you? How can I help you?”

“I’ve got great news,” Harry can hear the smile in her voice, and he holds his breath to hear her say the words he knows are coming, “There’s a mother who loves your profile and would like to meet with you and Mr. Tomlinson.”

After that, everything else goes blurry. All Harry remembers, after he hangs up with Glenda, is calling Louis frantically, tears of joy turning him into a blubbering mess. When he returns to his classroom full of students, he’s too ecstatic to hold it in and shares the happy news with them, and they congratulate him. 

“Alright Mr. Styles!” One of the more boisterous boys claps him on the back and Harry doesn’t care that he’s up from his desk and that there’s a small pot of inky black paint dripping to the floor. He’s so happy he accepts the one armed hug the boy gives him. 

A group of girls get up and gather around him and start asking him a million questions. They’re excited for him and he can’t contain his enthusiasm either. 

It’s happening. It’s really, really happening. 

Thankfully, it was Harry’s last class of the day, so he’s able to hurry home as soon as the bell rings. He’s too wound up to make anything for dinner, so he decides since it’s a special occasion, to order takeaway. He pulls a bottle of wine out of their chiller and pours it into glasses, knowing Louis will be home any minute. When he hears the front door, Harry practically runs to greet Louis, hugging him so hard he almost knocks him onto the floor, but he doesn’t care.

Louis nuzzles into Harry’s hair, “We did it Haz, we’re getting a baby.”

“We’re getting a baby,” Harry’s voice breaks.  


_~~~~_

Harry hears a soft knock on the bathroom door, “Haz, are you okay?”

As he sits on the cold tiled bathroom floor, Harry leans his head back against the wall. It feels like a loaded question at the moment. He’s been up since the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, which eventually led to feeling nauseous just thinking about their interview. Harry made a run for it to the toilet, emptying out his insides, and hasn’t come out since. 

It’s just. He thinks that maybe they shouldn’t have got their hopes up. What if the birth mother hates them? What if she sees them and immediately changes her mind? Harry isn’t quite sure how he’d handle that, he doesn’t think either he or Louis prepared for such an outcome. 

With another deep breath, he answers, “Not really.” And he can’t help but sound dejected. He hears the door click open, and when he looks up at Louis, his eyes are worried. Harry feels guilty for being the cause of Louis’ predicament.

Louis plops down to sit next to Harry, rubbing his thigh comfortingly, and he can already feel himself start to relax. 

“We’re going to be okay. No matter what happens,” Louis says. And he sounds so confident, so sure, that Harry believes him. Harry doesn’t know how Louis manages to be so strong, or at least look like he’s got himself together unlike Harry who always seems to be a big blubbering mess.

Louis kisses him softly against his temple, “I love you,” he whispers. 

Harry closes his eyes, Louis smells like cinnamon, like home, “I love you too.”

The next day, when they arrive at the agency, Harry feels a lot better. He’s still got a lot of lingering nerves, but just feeling Louis’ presence next to him, takes a huge weight off his shoulders. It makes him feel like they can do anything. 

They’re greeted by Glenda, who brings them into a room they’ve never been to before. It’s like a small lounging area, with couches and a side table with tea and coffee and snacks. 

“Please take a seat and help yourself to anything, I'll go get Lucy,” Glenda excuses herself.

Louis walks to the trolley to prepare some tea for them, while Harry sits on one of the couches. It’s so soft and comfortable, Harry can probably fall asleep if given enough time, and if his nerves weren’t eating at him. The longer it takes Glenda to come back, the harder Harry can feel his heart racing. He takes deep breaths to calm himself down, and once Louis brings him his tea, he starts to feel much better.

Once they’ve finally settled, he can hear voices out in the hallway, coming closer to where they are, and eventually Glenda appears with a young woman next to her. She’s got a small belly--according to the books Harry’s read, he guesses she’s around five or six months pregnant.

“Harry and Louis,” Glenda says brightly gesturing towards them, “This is Lucy.”

Lucy extends her arm at the same time as Harry and Louis and says, “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Harry smiles, “You too, please sit,” he says helping her take a seat. They continue exchanging pleasantries for a few more minutes until Glenda gets them back on track.

They find out more about Lucy and her story. It turns out that she was about to start medical school when she found out she was pregnant, and her boyfriend at the time was not ready for that type of responsibility. He left her alone with no one to really be there for her or the baby. 

“I’m supposed to be a doctor, it’s my passion and what I’m here to do, but I can’t do med school and raise a baby the way I’d want to. My family can’t really help either, so I’d pretty much be on my own, and I just don’t think I can do it,” she explains to them.

They get to know each other a little more, Lucy asks Harry and Louis questions about what they do, their families, what a typical day for them looks like. Harry and Louis try their best to assure her that they’d be the best parents they could be for her child, and remind her that they’d be willing to do an open adoption if that’s what she’d like. It’s something Harry and Louis had said they’d be open to when they first started the application process.

“Do you have any more questions for them Lucy?” Glenda inquires. At this point they’ve been getting to know each other for the past hour. Lucy seems to be comfortable around them, and Harry can feel that this is going to end in their favor.

“I don’t think I do, Glenda. Meeting you guys has only confirmed my decision that I’d love for you to be the parents of my baby,” she says rubbing her belly, “I know he’ll be well taken care of.”

“He?” Harry asks, voice shaky, it’s been such an emotional day, or year.

Lucy’s eyes widen, “Oh yea, sorry I meant to tell you, it’s a boy. Here I’ve got a picture of the scan,” she turns so she can grab her bag and pulls out the image, handing it over to them.

Harry and Louis look at the picture, and Harry can’t help it, his throat tightens and his eyes fill up with tears, “Thank you so much,” he tells her, reaching over to hug her.

_~~~~_

Harry goes a bit nursery crazy after that, now that they know it’s really happening. Louis and Harry decide on a nautical themed nursery, painting the walls with grey and white stripes. Harry spends time on making and painting the wall decor for the room. Every time they go to the store, Harry never refrains from buying anything nautical. There’s anchors, ropes, boats, and lighthouses, anything he can get his hands on. He paints little canvases to hang on the walls, one has a little anchor and the words: If you want to know how much we love you count the waves in the sea. It’s cheesy, and sappy, but Harry loves it. He even buys a shirt for Bailey that says “Big Brother” on it, he just can’t help himself.

Before they know it, it’s a month before the due date and they receive a call. Harry has a minor heart attack because he thinks that it’s Lucy calling to tell them she’s gone into labor and they’ve yet to finish the nursery. 

It’s Glenda. Her tone on the phone shows no type of emotion, which they’re not sure what to think--especially when they’re told to meet her at the agency. Harry and Louis arrive, hand in hand, to Glenda’s office. She’s sitting, with a regretful face, her eyes look as if she’d rather be anywhere else but here with them.

“Hello, Louis. Harry.” Her tone is flat, remorseful. Harry feels tears falling from his eyes before she’s even told them. He knows. It’s bad news. 

“Glenda. What is it?” Louis voice is authoritative. It’s his business voice. The one he uses for work. For important business dealings. The one that is unemotional, detached. 

Glenda takes a deep breath. “It turns out Lucy’s ex and father of the baby came back into the picture, and wants to be there for the baby, ultimately making Lucy want to keep the baby and start her own family,” She pauses, and Harry sees, through his own blurred vision, that Glenda is crying. When she speaks again it’s through a pained whisper, “I’m so sorry.” 

Harry doesn’t really hear anything else after that, just the soft murmurs of Glenda and Louis talking about options and staying on the list and contacting her if they need anything. But all Harry wants to do is go home. 

Go home and forget.

 

_~~~~_

The car ride home feels like an eternity.

Louis’ hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard he can hardly feel his fingers anymore. Harry looks out the window and cries silently the entire way home. Louis knows Harry is devastated. Fuck. He is too. But he can’t show it. Not yet. Not when Harry is like this. 

Being parents was something that had taken root in their minds over the last months. The idea of it. It was a slow growing dream that, once it was in their grasp, it felt real, tangible somehow. And now, now that it was gone, all that was left was this growing chasm in Louis’ chest that was threatening to eclipse everything. And Louis just wouldn’t allow that. 

Glenda had told them — well, Louis really, because Harry seemed to have checked out completely after he heard the initial news — that they’d remain on the list. There would be other birth parents, other chances. These promises did nothing to ease the blow. To ease the pain. 

They pull into their drive, and Louis helps Harry into the house. The eerie quiet, save for the sound of Harry crying, has followed them inside. Their house that was so cheerful and brimming with promise just this morning is now empty and hollow. Cold, somehow. Louis can smell the drying paint and the happy fragrance of hope, of future. 

Louis silently hangs their coats up and arranges their shoes on the mat by the door. He goes to get a glass of water from the kitchen and watches as Harry walks back to their bedroom, shoulders sagging in defeat. Louis feels impossibly empty, forlorn. How could everything have changed just like that? In the blink of an eye? 

Draining the glass, Louis closes his eyes and takes several slow, cleansing breaths. This isn’t the end. He repeats what Glenda told him over and over again in his mind, they will remain on the list — there will be other families, other babies. But to Louis, and surely to Harry, this still feels suspiciously close to a conclusion of some kind. 

As he rounds the corner to his bedroom it is ominously quiet. He opens the door and is about to call out for Harry when he stops short, the breath stolen from his lungs. 

Harry is on the floor, kneeling. He is naked except for one item. 

The collar. 

“Haz. Baby…” Louis walks slowly, tentatively, toward his husband. His heart absolutely breaks for the man on the floor at the foot of their bed. 

Harry looks up with tear stained cheeks, a high flush there and his eyes glimmering with that same determination, albeit sadness too, that he had when they decided to take the step to be parents. “I need it,” he whispers, making Louis’ heart leap in his chest. 

Louis caresses his cheek and tangles the fingers of one hand in his hair. “Babe. You don’t have to...I mean I could…”

“No,” Harry says forcefully, passionately. “I need it.” 

And it's like some sort of Pavlovian response or something because Harry is asking Louis to take care of him — like that — and Louis has to obey. Needs to. It feels, in that moment, as essential as breathing. Over the last several years, as they’ve explored this side of their relationship, worked out all of the finer elements, it now feels to Louis as if when Harry asks for it, Louis gives it to him. It’s simple, really. To Louis, it feels as natural as anything to him — as if this role he plays when they do this is as much a part of him as his blue eyes or his short attention span. It’s him. It’s them. 

Harry hangs his head and draws a deep breath. “Daddy,” he whispers once and Louis is suddenly pulling his clothes off, tears in his eyes, desperate to give Harry what he needs. 

Naked, Louis stands in front of Harry and is shocked to see the state of his arousal. He’s dizzy with it — just a moment ago he was in his kitchen trying to make sense of the past hour or so and now he’s standing here, in his bedroom, ready to do this. 

Louis rubs his semi-hard cock over Harry’s lips, his mouth open and starting to emit these soft little sounds. He’s so beautiful, Louis thinks. And he’s mine. “Get me hard, Haz. Get me hard and then I’ll reward you.” He sounds desperate, and anguished, both from the desire threatening to consume him and the heartache that’s blooming, dark, in his chest. 

Harry moans, the pain so, so thick in the sound of it and he opens his mouth, trusting and willing. He twists his hands behind his back. He looks up at Louis, deep into his eyes, sticks his tongue out and…

Christ. I will never get used to that, Louis thinks. The gasp caused by Harry’s hot breath covering the crown of his dick is strangling him, choking back all of the words, the feelings. The need to just give, to take, to forget, and to lose themselves in each other--like a cloak, eclipsing the sun. Eclipsing everything. 

With no warning, Harry bobs his head all the way down straight away and it feels like coming up for air after being submerged for far too long. Every nerve ending is tingling, every cell in Louis’ body crying out for his boy and what he knows he could do for him, for his cock. 

Harry looks at Louis pleadingly and Louis knows exactly what he needs. They’d reached the point in their relationship, in this stage of their D/s dynamics where Louis could tell with a glance, a touch, a moan exactly what his husband is asking for. Grabbing firm fistfuls of hair, Louis holds Harry still and starts thrusting slow and deep into his husband’s mouth. God, it feels so good. Harry uses his tongue and he clamps his lips around Louis’ quickly filling shaft and he swallows whenever Louis hits the back of his throat, and Louis feels his legs getting weak. Just from Harry and his mouth. 

“Baby. Baby. You are doing —” Louis keens after a particularly good thrust, Harry’s mouth hot and tight and wet, “so fucking good for me. God. Look at you. Just taking me.” Louis runs his fingers along Harry’s bulging cheek, awe and wonder clouding his brain. 

Harry moans around Louis’ cock, and Louis knows he has to pull out. If he doesn’t he’ll come and he doesn’t want that, knows Harry doesn’t want that either. Harry needs more. Louis needs to give him more. With a wet slurp, Harry releases Louis as he steps back and Louis whines at the loss.

“‘S okay, baby. ‘M gonna take care of you, yeah?” Louis coos, helping Harry to his feet. Harry’s body is limp and pliant and goes exactly where Louis wants him. He’s already under, and Louis feels his chest tighten at how hurt he is for him. 

Louis positions Harry on his side and he slides up behind him. “Gonna get you nice and wet for me, yeah?”

Louis likes to talk to Harry, let him know what’s coming next. But sometimes, when Harry is under, he likes to take extra care just to make sure that Harry is at least cognizant enough to really know what’s happening. It feels especially important, necessary, to Louis that he makes sure Harry is ok with everything happening. That he is aware. That he is consenting. 

Harry just whines and pushes his arse back toward Louis’ hips. “Need it. Need you,” is all his husband says. And that’s enough.

Louis coats his fingers with lube and gently eases one finger inside of Harry’s warm, waiting body. Harry whines louder. Louis is confused because Harry usually loves this part, likes to get teased a little, draw it out. When he’s going under, or already there, he usually just waits for Louis to tell him what to do. But this is different, this feels like Harry is restless, uncomfortable. He wriggles and squirms in Louis’ arms. 

“You ok baby?”

Harry grunts and rocks backward, throwing his head back so Louis could bite and suck at his neck. Instead, Louis runs his tongue gently up the column of Harry’s neck and keeps the slow gentle pace of his finger, rubbing inside of Harry’s slick walls and searching for his spot. He feels such tenderness for Harry in this moment, feels the immeasurable need to care for him. Show him through his touch, his body, his kiss... how much he loves him. 

“Lou…” Harry whines and rolls his hips. 

Louis stills and wonders if it is all too much, if maybe Harry is changing his mind about having sex. And that was fine with Louis, he expects it, actually. “What is it, H?”

“I need…” Harry’s voice cuts off and Louis can see he’s crying, is struggling to talk. Louis starts pulling his hand away slowly, and Harry reaches back and grabs him. “No! Fuck me Louis. Christ. I need it. I need you to fuck me. Make me forget.”

Louis startles at Harry’s outburst but he can’t deny the vehemence in Harry’s voice, the pure pain that shoots through it. Here Louis was taking it slow, trying to care for Harry the way he thought he wanted, needed, and Harry needs more. Needs to be roughed up a little, needs to be dominated. 

A thrill shoots up Louis’ spine.

“Please.”

That final word, and the desperation laced through it, is enough to get Louis moving.

More lube. Three fingers. 

Harry arches his back in this delicious way that makes Louis want to just fuck the living daylights out of him. But he holds back, holds on to the last shred of control he has — to make this good for Harry. To help him get through this. 

“Fuck…” Harry grits his teeth and rocks back, hard, on to Louis’ fingers, his arse clenching forcefully around Louis. And god, Louis wants to be inside of him yesterday. “Now, now, now,” Harry chants through his tears and through all of the pain and anguish and Louis knows that he can take it away, make it better, at least for now. 

“Hands and knees,” Louis demands, releasing his hold on his husband and rolling so that he can kneel behind him. 

Harry complies, hanging his head down between his shoulders, offering himself to Louis. Louis takes a moment to just appreciate the long line of Harry’s back, the width of his shoulders, the narrow curve of his waist…

Harry’s loud whine and the push of his bum against Louis’ aching cock breaks him free from his daydream. “Hard, Lou. Hard,” Harry begs.

Louis isn’t sure about this, isn’t sure about anything anymore, the whole world tipping upside down over the last hour or so. But Harry’s shoulders are shaking from either need or he’s crying again and Louis wants to take it away — make him forget So he pushes inside the white hot heat of his husband’s body, hard.

From the very first moment, Louis is relentless. Punishing. 

As Louis pounds inside Harry’s clenching hole, they are surrounded by the loud, fast, harsh slapping sound as Louis’ hips hit Harry’s arse over and over again and Harry bites back his moans. Louis grunts with the effort it’s taking and Harry’s just taking it — pushing back into it. It may be the hardest Louis has ever fucked him. But Harry shows no signs of stopping or asking Louis to slow down.

Louis pulls Harry up so that he’s sitting on his cock, backwards and, at this angle, Louis knows the pressure on his prostate is constant, excruciatingly so. And, by the way Harry has started grinding down, unevenly, on Louis’ lap, Louis knows he needs to come. So he can finally let go. 

Louis reaches up and tangles his fingers underneath the collar, his other hand on Harry’s hip, hard enough that his husband will surely have bruises tomorrow — a reminder of what they went through tonight, what they’ve left behind. “Mine,” he growls.

Harry whines, his voice coming out hoarse and choked off, the pressure Louis is putting on the collar cutting off just the smallest bit of air. “Yours.”

Louis uses every muscle he has so he can fuck up into Harry. The angle is hard and Harry is limp and moaning, but Louis is determined to see it through. When Harry starts to come, it’s hard and fast but Harry just cries out and releases these soft desperate whimpers, the letting go happening like a slow rolling tide rather than a hard crashing wave. With one last thrust, Louis releases inside his husband, his body shuddering and a tidal wave of emotion breaking through the surface, parting the clouds so just a small flicker of sunshine can eke through.

As they both come down, Harry so far under, Louis knows it will be hours before he comes back to him. Louis runs soft hands over Harry’s cooling body. He whispers into his ear, against his neck, that he loves him, so, so much. Harry curls up small inside Louis’ arms and as Louis watches the sun trade places with the moon he tells Harry, small and soft, “We’ll be ok. We’re ok.” He kisses Harry’s cheeks, his nose, the full curve of his mouth. “We are going to be ok.”  


_~~~~_

Harry’s cheeks are dusted pink as he takes another look in the mirror. He’s standing, holding his robe open and admiring every item gracing his body. He might have gone a little overboard in the lingerie section, but he figured go big or go home. He also might have originally gone to the store for a new school year wardrobe, but running into these little treasures was a happy coincidence. It felt as if there were a spotlight shining on them just asking for Harry to take them. 

After trying on a few button down shirts, some new trousers and a new pair of boots, Harry was making his way to the till, taking a shortcut through the women’s section. His arm had grazed a silky blue robe, making Harry stop in his tracks. He ran his hand through the material again, loving the way it felt against his skin, almost like liquid. From there, he was pretty much unstoppable. He got a few lace panties, pink, black, and red, and the thigh high stockings were just calling out to him. Everyone knows he shouldn’t be trusted to shop on his own, he can’t help himself. Harry rubs his fingers along the lace that adorns his hips and bites his bottom lip. His stomach flutters in anticipation as he waits for Louis to get home. 

Harry knows he’s a good looking man, but there’s just something about wearing women’s lingerie that just makes him feel so...pretty. He runs nimble fingers through his hair, making sure his curls frame his face perfectly. He grabs some of his cherry lip balm, gliding it on his lips lightly, puckering his lips. He hooks a finger into his collar, running his index finger along the engraving, taking a deep breath to keep himself present.

Checking the time, Harry finishes getting ready, hoping the body shimmer isn’t too much. He feels like he’s getting ready to present himself to Louis as an offering, which to be honest, wouldn’t be that far of a stretch.

It’s been weeks since the last time he and Louis played. They’d done a pretty intense scene that involved Harry’s arms and legs being tied with rope and bent over their sofa getting caned with a ball gag in his mouth. Harry had pretty much asked for it being the stubborn submissive he can be sometimes. After that, he couldn't walk straight for days, but luckily, he was on summer hols. Trying out new and different things in the bedroom has never been a challenge to Harry and Louis, even after being married for almost eight years. Harry feels that the connection he and Louis have has only become stronger. Long gone are the insecurities, the doubts, because Harry knows Louis is open to pretty much anything. Things haven’t been perfect at all, but they’re able to voice when they don’t like something, or when it’s too much. Harry has only had to use his safe word a couple of times, and Louis is always so in synch with Harry — he’s always right there, by his side without question. Checking in with him to make sure he’s okay and taken care of. Harry’s never felt love like this, and he knows, that he and Louis are forever.

Harry knows now, more than ever, that things don’t always go the way you plan, but they always have a way of working themselves out. If someone would have asked Harry two years ago if this is where he’d be today, his first response wouldn’t be to say that he’d gotten over the lost adoption. He and Louis were broken, and it took a while to get over that ache, having each other to lean on and help each other get through it was the only reason why Harry is where he is today.

Harry’s phone vibrating shakes him out of his thoughts. It’s a text from Louis.

On my way home, need me pick anything up?

Harry smiles and replies that he doesn’t, placing his phone on the night stand. He takes one last glance in the mirror. He makes sure dinner is in the warmer--prepared for their activities to take as long as they need to without letting the food get cold--and he gets into position. Harry takes a deep breath.

Just breathe. 

He drops onto his knees near the entrance to wait for Louis. His heart beats heavily against his chest, his breathing quickens. He can feel his skin tingling, as if it knows that Louis is getting closer and closer. When he hears the car pull up to the driveway, Harry’s eyes flutter closed so he can pull himself together. The front door unlocks and he opens his eyes, seeing Louis, only Louis.

Louis doesn’t seem to notice Harry at first — he wouldn’t expect him to as it’s not really the norm for Harry to be waiting on his knees at the front door for him — but when he turns around to throw his keys on the side table, Harry can hear Louis’ breath hitch, and his eyes go wide and dark.

“Harry,” Louis says, breathless.

Harry tilts his head up, lashes tickling the top of his cheeks as he blinks heavily, he can already feel the pull, not much longer left before he slips. Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s curls, the sensation makes Harry shiver, and he automatically leans into the touch. Louis’ hand feels warm, comforting. He drops his robe, presenting himself to Louis, exposing his neck for good measure to show Louis the collar, his collar. He feels Louis’ hand stop, then tighten into his hair making Harry moan.

Louis helps Harry to his feet, surging forward to kiss him, his teeth grazing against Harry’s bottom lip, swallowing every noise Harry makes. Harry feels Louis’ hands exploring his body — feels him scraping his nails, his fingertips, against his arse cheeks, feeling the material of the panties against his skin. 

“Bed, now,” Louis orders in that voice that makes Harry whine in response.

Before Harry knows it, he’s strapped to the bed, hands and feet splayed out like a starfish.

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” Louis marvels. He mouths on Harry’s cock, which is hard and strained against the pink lace. And Harry has to bite his bottom lip to keep from making noise — because good boys stay quiet until told. It feels like someone turned on the heat on this warm August day, as Harry can already feel sweat starting to seep from his pores. 

Harry’s phone begins to vibrate loud against the night stand. Louis instinctively gets up — away from Harry’s cock, the travesty — phone calls a high priority these days. Still, Harry groans in frustration. Last time Louis answered the phone when Harry was tied up it was one of his sisters looking for help with making a resume. Harry rolls his eyes at the memory. Louis grabs the phone, a look of recognition on his face as he answers.

“Hello?” Louis’ voice is raspy and deep. And then the color drains from his face, and his jaw drops, “Okay, yea, okay we’ll be right there, thank you,” he rushes out and hangs up, scrambling to get Harry out of his restraints.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, heart beating wildly in his chest, and not from the almost-sex.

Louis dashes to unlatch Harry’s feet, “Um..that was Will, Sophie’s gone into labor. They’re heading to the hospital right now.”

“Oh my God,” Harry springs from the bed as soon as he’s free, and in a haste scurries to put some clothes on and gather their things. They get what they need in record time, and before they know it, they’re making their way to the front door. Before Louis reaches to open it, Harry stops him, “Lou.”

Louis freezes, and turns to look back at Harry, he’s already got tears in his eyes, before he even turns around to look at Harry. Harry feels a few tears slip down his cheeks as well. 

“This is it,” Louis tells him.

Harry wipes the tears from Louis’ eyes, “It is.” They lean into each other and share a kiss before they make their way to the car. Harry checks the back seat to make sure the car seat and the rest of the baby’s things are in order. He runs his thumb over the blanket Jay made for them, an “L” embroidered on it in light blue and green. Just hours from this very moment, Harry and Louis will have a baby, hopefully with bright blue eyes, just like his dad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Authors love comments so let us know what you think! Thank you!


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